


My Caffeinated Romance

by lalazee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood and Violence, Character Study, Dark, Drama, Drunk Driving, Drunken Shenanigans, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heroin, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Living Together, M/M, Marijuana, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder Mystery, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Stripper Keith (Voltron), Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trans Pidge | Katie Holt, Young Zarkon (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: What starts off as a seemingly ordinary crush on douchey, too-good-for-him barista, Keith, turns into a lot more than Lance had bargained for. Women are going missing all over campus, and they've all been regulars at The Lion Cafe where Keith works. And then there's Agents Allura & Coran. And the strip clubs - and the dark and nasty world that follows. But how is Keith all tied up in this? And what happens when Lance decides he wants to play hero and risk it all?***This was developed from a prompt of someone who wanted a seemingly ordinary Barista AU to "go dark". Well, this is gonna go way down the rabbit hole, folks. But I do promise you, it will be worth the read. You just might want to buckle up, first.





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Keeeith_ , you’re still _here_?” Lance said with a slur as he stumbled through the café doors just five minutes before their eleven o’clock closing. He grinned sloppily as he flopped himself onto a worn, plaid armchair. “You were here right after class ended like –”

Lance began to count on his fingers, but that shit was hard.

“A _long_ -ass time ago. You need to work less. Get the stick outta your ass. Party. Live a little.”

Keith looked on blandly from his spot behind the counter as he wiped down the appliances.

“Easy to say when mommy and daddy pay the bills,” he said dryly. “And don’t ask me for any espresso drinks because I already cleaned and shut that shit down. We’ve got drip coffee.”

Lance waved a limp hand from his seat.

“Drip me, then.”

He rolled his head back and smiled obnoxiously while Keith turned back towards the coffee machine.

“Come out with me some time. I’ll show you a good night.”

Keith shot an unimpressed look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

“Just how wasted _are_ you? I’m not one of your floozies.”

“I bet you got a little floozy in ya. Who doesn’t? But I meant just come have fun for once. You’re like the pestilence of any room you walk into.”

Keith turned around with a moody expression.

“Gee, you’re really convincing me to seek out your company out of my own volition.”

“I’m irresistible, I know.”

Keith slammed the cardboard cup on the counter.

“Take your coffee and go home, McClain.”

Lance sauntered up to register. He folded his arms on the countertop and leaned in, meeting Keith’s steely gaze.

“Can’t I help you close up?”

“That would be a hard no. My boss would kill me if someone were here after closing. Liability and shit.”

“Yeah, yeah. You just think I’ll break something.”

“You have and you would again. Go now.”

Lance aimed one more plaintive look at those misty grey eyes and slunk away. Foiled again.

Keith was fucking impenetrable to remain entirely unaffected by Lance’s overflowing charisma after all of this time.

However, all thoughts of Keith flew out the window when a cute redhead slipped past him, just as he stepped outside. She smelled like strawberries and looked like the girl next door. Uh, if the girl next door wore high, clear stripper heels, Lance noticed. Hot, though.

As the door closed, Lance heard the chick say, “Hi, Keith! I hope I’m ready for the night to come!”

Frowning at the closed glass door one final moment, Lance shoved his free hand in the pocket of his dad’s old military jacket and stumbled home, sipping Keith-brewed coffee.

Maybe the guy had more of a life than he let on. With a hot redhead, at that.

“ _Pffft_ ,” Lance said into the mouth of his coffee cup as he glared at a passerby. “I’m no redhead in heels, but I’m not bad to look at. Hey!”

Lance flagged down two clubber girls on their way out for the night.

“I’m not bad looking, right? You’d do me – don’t make that face, I know you’ve already considered it! But I’m taken, ladies!” Lance was now just belligerently hollering down the street. “He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll be taken!”

Why Keith, of all people?

Lance wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew it was just a crush. It could only be a crush since they barely got along and almost never engaged in any meaningful conversation. Plus, Lance was always second to Keith in every class they took together – criminology, sociology, psychology, social work. Lance was often desperately jealous and other times just straight up infuriated by Keith’s apparent superiority.

So, again, why Keith?

Just – _because_. There was something about him. Something dependable, earnest, hardworking. And fiery. Fiery, impatient, passionate, competitive. Hot. He was so fucking hot. Especially when he wore the barista apron.

Lance liked to think himself more of a ladies man, but for whatever reason, their first two years at Garrison University, and now into their third, their rivalry and bickering had become something more.

 _Something more,_ in the sense that Lance had come to expect and depend on their interactions to make his day. And Keith continued to not give a shit.

Apparently because he had a hot redheaded girlfriend who was probably named Tiffany or Brittany or some shit.

Lance grinned as he passed by the university dorms and flipped them off as he passed. He was a Junior now. No more dorm life for him.

He, Hunk, and Pidge had it made in their _own_ dump, thank you very much.

Lance rolled up to said dump not ten minutes later, relieved to find no errant vomit on the front lawn just yet. But the night was young.

“Honey, I’m hooome!”

“Go back to where you came from!” Hunk said from the kitchen.

Undeterred, Lance strut into the kitchen with a lopsided smile, his delight only heightening when he saw Shay sitting across the table from Hunk.  
“Hey, little Shay!” Lance dropped a kiss on her head as he took a seat for himself.

Shay giggled a little, right on cue. As a six foot South African lady with strikingly deep cocoa skin, she was hardly ‘little’ to anyone. In fact, she was taller than her boyfriend, Hunk. But her personality was all sweetness and sunshine. Lance adored her.

“Well, you look drunk and you didn’t even take us with you,” Hunk said.

“You always puke! I’ve never met a big guy who couldn’t hold their liquor.”

“I would have pretended to drink. You don’t know my life.”

“Ah, but I do, my friend, I do. And it’s a pathetic, sad one.”

Lance propped his elbow on the table and leaned his chin on his palm as he stared into space dreamily.

“I stopped by Keith’s.”

“Oh, good. Just what I wanted to hear more of. Your twisted inner stalker lifestyle.”

“I think he has a girlfriend. Redhead. I have no chance.”

“Dude.” Hunk reached out, his expression solemn. He took Lance’s free hand. “You’ve never had a chance. There is no chance. If you were a rapper you’d be called Chanceless the Rapper.”

“ _Ugh_.”

Lance collapsed his face onto the table, probably a little harder than he should have. But, the drunkenness and all.

“Am I pathetic?”

“I think unanimously that’s a yes.”

“Oh, Hunk,” Shay cut in. She put her hand lightly on the crown of Lance’s head, resting gently in his disarray of hair. “Be nice, now. I think it’s sweet how set he is on one person. It’s romantic.”

“See, the fact that you think _Lance_ is romantic just shows how little you know him yet.”

“I’m sitting right here!”

“You said you had a romantic night with that one girl because you got to hold her hair back as she puked in our only toilet! She clogged it, Lance, she _clogged_ it.”

“I can’t give up on him, Hunk,” Lance said with a theatrical wail as he flung himself back to a slouch in his seat. “Not that I don’t want to! He’s a smart-ass jerk more often than no–”

“Are we talking about him or you now?”

“But I’m like set on him or something.”

“Like a dog.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest. Then he released a moan of abject misery and flopped his face back onto the table.

“Like a _dog_ ,” he said.

***

“Hey,” Lance said as the class of fifty piled from criminology and nearly bowled him over in his attempt to sidle up next to Keith.

“What?” Keith said, barely glancing his way. He shifted through some texts on his phone as he weaved through the crowd.

“You heading to work now?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m walk with you and study there.”  
“Why don’t you ever study anywhere else?”

Lance grinned.

“Just to spite you.”

Keith’s lips twitched as he pocketed his phone.

“Well, it’s working.”

“My life is well on its way to completion.”

They walked in silence until they burst through the front doors and into the fresh, damp spring afternoon. The sky was a stormy grey that reminded Lance of Keith’s eyes.

“When the hell do you ever study?” Lance said, studying Keith’s profile. “You do school, you work, you apparently have a social life if Little Miss Redhead shows me anything. So when do you do it?”

“I don’t,” Keith said, the corner of his mouth rising sharply as he met Lance’s gaze briefly. “I don’t have to. I’m just that good.”

Lance felt his face heat.

“You’re such a shitbag.”

To that, Keith actually laughed. Lance’s heart skipped a little and yeah, he was a little pathetic.

“Well, if you have any questions during your studies, I’ll be right there waiting,” Keith said with mock kindness.

“I hate you.”  
  
“So you’ve said.” Keith paused as they stopped at a light and looked both ways before crossing. “You asked me out two nights ago.”  
  
Lance did a double-take. He hadn’t been _that_ drunk last night.

“I _what_?”

“You told me to go out with you and you’d show me a good time.”

Keith appeared fairly unreadable, just as if he were stating the weather.

Lance’s gawk snapped shut as he laughed that off with a wave of his hand, bumping into Keith’s shoulder with his own.  
  
“Shut up, dude. You know I was joking. And drunk. Plus, I’m wuh- _haaay_ out of your league.”

“Yeah, at the bottom,” Keith said with a snicker.

“I’m gonna _murder_ y–”

Lance stopped on his heels as they passed a newspaper box. He frowned at the front page photo.

“That’s the second Garrison girl gone missing since January,” Keith said, his voice surprisingly thick for a guy who rarely seemed to feel emotions like a normal human.

“Jeez. Yeah. Fuck, man.”

They turned the corner together in sober silence, ending up right in front of The Lion Café, the student hotspot all hours of every day.

“They were regulars here, too, weren’t they?” Lance said as they entered the bustling establishment.

Keith flicked a look Lance’s way.

“You actually notice shit like that?”

“Hey, man, I notice things.” Lance brought two fingers up to his eyes and then pointed them at Keith. “I see all. I’m like a motherfuckin’ hawk.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, his mouth ghosting at the hint of a smile.

“Apparently. Listen, I’m heading to the back. You want your usual?”

“Oh,” Lance brought his hands beneath his chin and fluttered his lashes. “You really do care!”

Keith’s entire expression dropped to disparagement.

“Nevermind. You’ll get a dump in a cup and like it.”  
  
Keith left Lance openly weeping in the center of the store.

***

Lance had been there for three hours by the time Shiro walked in. Boy, did he take up a room. He’d only started here since the beginning of this year, but he was so easy to talk to that it felt like forever.

“Hey, man,” Lance called out with a wave. Lance always sat close to the register so he could heckle Keith when the opportunity called for it.

Shiro spotted Lance, his serious expression blooming to a friendly smile.

“Lance, hey. Here again.”  
  
“I just love to see your face every day.”  
  
“I bet,” Shiro said, amusement clear in his voice. “Where’s Keith?”  
  
“He just went to the back to – er, I mean.” Lance felt his face go red. “I don’t know. I don’t like follow him or anything. He’s doing whatever.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Shiro said, his smile widening. He passed by Lance and ruffled his hair just like Lance’s dad. “Well, I’ll talk to you soon. It’s gonna get busy in a few minutes, I can feel it.”

“Psychic barista. Now that’s a show I would watch.”

“Maybe that’s my calling in life,” Shiro shouted over his shoulder as he headed towards the back.

“Whatever it is, it ain’t here!” Lance said loudly.

Anyone could see Shiro didn’t belong working in a little coffee shop. Big, obviously skilled guy like that could do just about anything with his life. Hell, with the dashing facial scar and white streak of hair, he could be a model and make bank. Wherever he should be, it definitely wasn’t here, and Lance had told him this on multiple occasions. Shiro always laughed him off and said he went wherever he was needed. Whatever that meant.

Just as Shiro had predicted, the after-work rush hour arrived shortly. Lance was content to curl up in his corner of the world and take notes on his classes. He often played the doofus, and had no problem doing so. But he was determined to graduate with honors. Determined to keep up with Keith and to make his family proud. He wanted to be an amazing cop one day. Or maybe get in the Air Force or Marines before going into law enforcement. Whatever he did, he wanted to be so fucking good _everyone_ noticed.

“ _Oiy_.”

Lance shot his gaze up, emerging owlishly out of his bookish trance. He found himself staring at Keith, still decked out in his apron, a dark streak of espresso grinds smeared across his cheek, his hands fisted on his hips.

“Uh. Hi?”

“You gonna sit here all day or what? You’ve only bought one drink this entire time.”

Lance beamed what he hoped was his most charming smile.

“Then I’ll have another, barkeep.”

“You won’t.”  
  
“I… won’t?”  
  
“No normal human can live solely off coffee. Eat with me.”  
  
“Eat…” Lance blinked. “With you.”

“Are you a fucking parrot now? Eat or don’t, but you’re not getting more caffeine ‘til something’s in your stomach.”

Lance collected himself quickly and grinned.

“How could I say no? I’ll do anything for caffeine.”

“Unfortunately, I believe that of you. Hold on.”

Keith walked away, and maybe Lance admired the view as he watched him go.

It wasn’t long before he found himself sitting across from Keith as they shared a panini and chips from the miniscule café menu.

Lance chewed thoughtfully as he surveyed Keith anew. What a strange guy.

“You’re a strange guy.”  
  
Keith shot him a heated look.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just, you’re weird like the rest of us. You hide it better by being all put-together and good-looking.”

Keith rolled his eyes and took a large, aggressive bite of his sandwich. He finished chewing, took a swig of water, and eyed Lance with those razor sharp eyes of his.

“And you’re a lot more balanced than you let on.”

“If you think I’m well balanced, I haven’t shown you my Power Rangers tattoo yet.”

“You haven’t and I don’t need to see it. I stand by my comment.”

“Oh. Well.” Lance scratched his nose and looked down at his plate, because for once he couldn’t quite muster his courage to meet Keith’s gaze. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Breaks over,” Keith said, already standing. “Finish that food and I’ll bring you a drink.”

“Yes, sir!”

Today, Lance had no excuse to stay until close. He drank his previously promised latte, fucked around on his phone, and as the sun began to set, stood up with a big stretch and collected his belongings.

Meandering up to the now empty counter, Lance leaned in with his usual aplomb and grinned at both Keith and Shiro.

“See you guys later. Keep up the shop for me while I’m gone.”

“Oh, brother,” Keith said, while Shiro just laughed and agreed to do so.

“’Night, team,” Lance said with a wave and a smile as he exited the store.

He passed the missing girl newspaper once more and frowned to himself. Sad stuff.

***

Three days later, Lance was rounding that same corner to the shop when his eye caught the newspaper once more.

Tiffany-Brittany Redhead Hot Heels stared right back at him in grainy clarity.

Missing girl number three.

Lance’s heart dropped into his stomach.

Numbly, he bought the newspaper. Brought it into The Lion Café.

“You again,” Keith said from across the room with a half smile.

The expression was wiped away the second Lance lifted the paper.

“What happened?” Lance said quietly.

Keith took a deep breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get your mind out of the gutter.”  
> “Well, we were basically just hanging out in the gutter, sooo…”  
> “That was an old, moldy pool! There’s a difference.”

“I have no clue.”

Lance approached the counter with the newspaper in hand, dropping it photo-up on the surface between them.

“What do you mean, man? How are you so calm about this – isn’t she your girlfriend or something?”

“Uh, _no_?” Keith scratched his head and picked up the paper, his eyes scanning the article back and forth. “Cary was just a girl who came in a lot. I knew her on the shallowest level.”

“But you were going out with her like a week ago,” Lance said, eyeing Keith’s guarded expression.

“Yeah, we _did_. And I still do, with _other_ girls.” Keith raised a striking eyebrow. “That against the law, officer?”

Lance had the maturity to stick his tongue out.

“Sh-shut up! I’m just saying it’s hella weird. That’s three girls now – all of them who used to hang out here.”

Keith’s lips curved in a humorless, flat smile. He leaned forward, as if he was going to tell Lance a secret.

“Lance. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but… Everyone on _campus_ is a regular here. _Idiot_.” Keith shrugged. “And I’ve dated more than a few of them. For the record, they’re all still alive.”

This time it was Lance who mirrored Keith’s raised brow.

“Except maybe this one. _Idiot_.”

Keith lowered his gaze, appearing sufficiently mollified.

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s all fucked up recently. I wish it wasn’t.”

Lance sighed.

“Same.” Then, he perked up. “Oh! I forgot why I’d come in the first place.”

“Because you don’t have a life?” Keith said, pointedly dropping the unread newspaper in the trash.

“Hey, keep that up and I’ll revoke your invite to the best party of all Spring Break. Next week. My place.”

“Sounds exciting,” Keith said drolly. “But no. I have work.”

“Take a night off. Just one.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

Lance slapped his palms on the counter and leaned in, overly intense.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.”

Lance took a deep breath.

“Come on, come _ooon_ , comeon comeon comeon come–”

“Fine!” Keith’s eye started to twitch as he threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Jeezus, _fine_. I’ll come only after work – _after_.”

“Yusss!” Lance fist pumped before he could hold himself back. “Dude, you’re gonna love my place. You’ll have a blast. We’re gonna take the house down.”

Keith just rolled his eyes, his mouth a small curve.

“Sure. Great. I’ll be late, though. I have stuff to do after closing.”

“ _After_ close? Bro, what could you possibly have _after_ eleven at night – a shady drug deal in the back alley?”

“Basically,” Keith said flatly. Then, “Move. I have actual paying customers who would like my attention now.”

“Whatever, man. My caffeine addiction could put you through school alone.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Keith reached across the counter and physically pushed Lance to the side with a large, customer-pleasing smile. “Hey there. What can I get for you ladies?”

Lance made a face to himself, muttering grumbled nonsense under his breath as he found himself a seat with a table to spread out his homework.

Meanwhile, Keith chatted away to the two college girls in a way he never did to anyone else. Normally, Lance would be the one in the group to flirt, but he knew he took second seat once Keith decided to turn on the secret, hidden charm.

It was almost like an act. It seemed to happen just about any time a female student walked into The Lion. Lance wondered with a hot flash of anger just how many girls Keith _did_ date in his free time.

Keith didn’t even seem like the type to use up energy to flirt! Not like Lance, who had the caffeine-fueled energy of an entire Olympic swim team.

Er, well, not that it was any of Lance’s business what Keith did or who he saw.

Lance thought again of Cary. He wondered if he should be talking to the police regarding her whereabouts. But logically, they would likely be speaking to Keith, Shiro, and the other employees at some point soon.

Keith had seemed awfully close-mouthed about the entire thing. He was probably hurting more than he let on.

“Duuude!” Hunk’s booming voice had several people looking up from their laptops and conversations.

Lance grinned and waved him over, glad to see Pidge tagging along with a massive backpack that likely held not one, but two laptops and even more spare parts.

“Hey guys. ‘Sup?”

“We knew you’d be here,” Pidge said, grabbing a chair from another table and sliding in to sit. “Y’know, being pathetic and all.”

“I’m studying, you little shitsnack!”

“I don’t see any books open,” Pidge said with arms folded across his chest.

“W-well, I just got here,” Lance said, sputtering for defense.

“In fact, you haven’t even bought a coffee,” Pidge said, on a roll. “Illustrating that you likely came in, went straight into harassing Keith, and didn’t even think about your usual ruse of caffienation.”

While Lance stammered dumbly, Hulk, who was still standing tableside, cut in.

“I’m getting food. Who wants drinks? Lance, a nice hot cup of dignity?”

“Yeah,” Lance snapped. “With an extra shot of shut your food hole.”

“Okay, that’ll be a whole lot of nothing for the bitter man in the corner,” Hunk said with a mock salute as he headed out.

Lance dropped his chin on his palm and eyed Pidge, who was scrolling on his phone.

“So, what exactly are you guys doing here?”

“Nothin’. Just eating.” Pidge looked up from his phone with a sly grin. “What’re _you_ doing here?”

“ _Nothing_. Studying! Er… Inviting Keith to our party.”

“Hey man, whatever keeps you going.”

Hunk returned with a tray of cakes and croissants, plus a painfully strong coffee for Lance, a hyper-sugary latte for Pidge, and a frappe for himself.

Lance thanked Hunk profusely for his drink of the gods. He grabbed a cupcake laced with coffee and inhaled it. And promptly choked as he watched the hottest blonde he’d ever seen walk through the door.

She was a dream. Long, thick platinum blonde hair, petite face with pink-painted lips, long-lashed eyes that were so blue, they almost edged on violet. Body like a Playboy bunny. And she was staring right at – Keith. Of course.

“Wh-who is _that_?” Lance found himself saying.

Pidge looked over his shoulder as the girl called Keith’s name over the café chatter and waved happily.

“Oh, that’s Nyma. She’s in all the same computer programming classes as me.”

“And engineering classes as me,” Hunk said with his mouth full. “She’s like, freaky smart.”

“And freaky hot,” Pidge said, already sliding from his chair. “In fact, I’m gonna ask her to our party.”

Hunk looked on as Pidge intercepted Nyma on her approach to the counter and began to chat her up.

“That guy has more balls than the two of us put together.”

“Fuck if I don’t know it,” Lance said, lifting his coffee in a mock cheers.

Pidge was definitely a different story from the angry, miserable Katie Holt they’d met in their first year. But it was in that year which he admitted to them that he’d always thought he was just a really bitter, depressed lesbian all of his life. Turned out, he just hadn’t full realized that he was just a dude.

And now, easily one of the most brazen, ballsy dudes Lance had ever met.

He’d never seen anyone pick up chicks like Pidge. Not Keith, nobody.

“Aaand, she’s coming next week,” Pidge said as he slid back into his chair and propped his feet up on Hunk’s lap. Pidge grinned wolfishly, “Maybe more ways than one.”

“ _Ew_ ,” Hunk and Lance said in tandem.

“Actually,” Lance said, directing his attention back to Nyma as she approached Keith and went right behind the counter like she owned the place. “You might have some competition.”

Nyma flung her arms around Keith in a short but intimate hug that had Lance’s vision going red.

“Hey, hotstuff,” she said, and her voice was like a sexy goddamned candy shop. “Can you find out my hours for the weekend? I forgot to check before I left last night.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. He’d never seen this chick – or any chick – work a day in her life at The Lion. And he would know. Lance was here more than some of the employees.

Still, Keith nodded.

“I’ll call him,” he said, and disappeared into the back office.

“Lance… Lance? _Lance_ , are you even listening to us?” Pidge said, snapping his fingers in front of Lance’s face. “Come on, bro. I know she’s hot, but you’ve got zero chance.”

Lance shot them a dirty look.

“That’s not what I’m looking at.”

He watched as Keith emerged and handed Nyma a small scrap of paper. They exchanged a few quiet words and Nyma headed out.

She passed their table and aimed a sparkling, Miss America smile Pidge’s way.

“See ya Spring Break.”

“Hope so,” Pidge said smoothly, without a hint of nerves. “Bye, Nyma.”

Lance took a long, aggressive drink of his coffee and waited until Nyma had fully left the premises before pounced. He slammed his cup back down on the table and leaned in.

“Okay, what’s her deal? She doesn’t work here, does she? _I’ve_ never seen her work here. Unless she works early mornings because I don’t do disgusting things like wake up at hellish hours.”

“Woah, chill,” Pidge said, holding up a calming hand. “I’m pretty sure she’s a stripper, okay?”

“Um,” Hunk said, pausing his endless pastry feast. “Now that is simply presumptive ad sexist to assume.”

Pidge stared blandly at Hunk.

“No, I mean she literally is a stripper. She told me she dances to pay her way through college. Pretty smart, if you ask me.”

“So what is _she_ doing talking to Keith like she works _here_?” Lance all but screeched, his eyes bulging.

Upon undoubtedly hearing his name yelled, Keith looked up from serving a customer at the counter. He glared daggers Lance’s way and mimed zipping his lips.

Lance mimed slitting his throat in return.

“Cool your jets, Lance,” Hunk said with that calming, gentle giant tone of his. “There’s no big mystery, here. Maybe she’s new working here. And maybe you need to give yourself a break. I’m pretty sure you’re veins are ninety-five percent espresso at this point.”

Lance took a loud, slurping sip of his triple Americano red-eye and blinked placidly.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

The entire table groaned.

***

The house sounded like it was going to collapse under the weight of half a hundred belligerently drunk college students. The wood staircase shrieked and cracked. The bare, unadorned walls shook. The floor quaked. Heavy, bass-laden music shifted the very air around the entire building.

And Lance was dancing on the kitchen table.

The room was flooded with people, their feet splashing in countless spilled drinks as they lifted their red Solo cups to the sky and danced along. Booze flew through the air and landed in hair. A girl Lance didn’t know sat on the counter with her legs wrapped around Pidge’s waist while they sucked each other’s faces off. So much for Nyma.

Lance hooted and hollered, his fist pumping in the air as his hips swayed and thrust to the music. His deep blue, v-neck shirt ended up soaked in Bud Lite at some point, and clung to him, damp and sticky. At some point earlier in the evening, some chick had stripped him off his belt and now his black skinny jeans sunk lower down his sharp hip bones.

Lance was literally falling apart at the seams, but fuck if he wasn’t _living_.

Some chick got up on the table with him, but all Lance did was turn his ass to her and grind up and down the length of her body as if she were an inanimate stripper pole.

And that’s when he looked across the way, into the living room, and met the wide eyes of Keith.

Lance’s smile cracked from ear to ear.

“Hey, everyone!” Lance yelled at the top of his lungs, over the music. He threw his arms in the air. “It’s Keith – hi, Keith!”

Keith’s face went red as he looked around. God, he was fucking adorable. _Adorable_? That was a first.

“ _HI, KEITH_!” the entire house roared. And the party continued.

Lance hopped off the table, grabbed two beers and a half-full handle of rum from a random floor cooler, and weaved his way through the crowd.

“You made it,” Lance said with a grin, trying not to sound too much like it was the greatest day of his life or anything.

He admired his guest for a moment as Keith cracked open his beer and took a hilariously long, deep drink. He was dressed all in black, down to high, clunky Doc Martins boots that looked like they’d seen their day. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck in a stubby ponytail that Lance immediately decided was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

After Keith’s inordinately long swig, he paused and looked around, in the process getting bumped and jostled by several delirious dancers.

“Some place,” Keith said with a half-smile, pitching his voice above the noise.

Lance just grinned.

“Right? Hey, come on!”

Lance grabbed Keith’s free hand and rushed him through the kitchen – past Pidge, who was now talking to a different girl – and out the back door.

The backyard was nearly as packed as the house. New music played out back from inside – just as loud, just as raucous and fun.

Hunk was at the huge grill he’d lugged from home when they’d moved into the house. He’d said it was imperative to his survival.

Right now, he swayed drunkenly as he flipped burgers and hot dogs, while Shay smiled serenely at him with rosy cheeks as she slathered ribs with barbeque sauce.

The ground was littered with Solo cups, people lining up for food, a large group smoking something dubious at the far edge of the lawn, and more than one person making out with randoms on the lawn chairs.   
  
Lance looked around for an open spot, and brilliantly decided on the only available one left.

He approached the large, empty, and hella grubby below-ground pool, finished his beer, tucked his fifth under his arm, and turned around to take the ladder down.

“Um,” Keith said.

Lance looked up from the ladder, his flushed face alight with excitement.  
  
“What? We put tarps down here for sitting. You would be on anything gross.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Keith said, eyebrows dubiously traveling towards his hairline. “Because it _looks_ mega gross.”

“Just shut up and get in the weird, old pool with me.”

“Now that’s a proposition I haven’t heard before.”

“Really, because I use it, like, all the time,” Lance said as he hopped from the bottom of the ladder and dropped the final few feet. He peered up at Keith, met his eyes, and smiled. “Come on. Live a little.”

Keith stared quietly for a moment. Then he finished off his beer, crushed the can in his fist, threw it to the side, and headed on down.

When he hopped to the ground, Lance let out a hoot of glee and shoved the rum in his hands.

“Drink up, now – take your medicine.”

“You’re fuckin’ weird, you know that?” Keith said, that ghost of a smile reappearing as he followed Lance to the middle of the pool.

“ _I_ , Keith,” Lance said as he sat down on the huge, clean tarp and promptly fell back until he was on his back, watching the stars spin, “Am totally fucking awesome. And fine as hell, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Keith said as he sat down beside Lance’s prone form, hip to hip, his own legs folded comfortably. “You’ve got a little turned-up fairy nose, after all.”

Lance gasped, genuinely in shock. Not that it was enough for him to move or anything.

“Who you callin’ a fairy, mullet brain?”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Keith said with a laugh in his voice. He unscrewed the fifth of rum and promptly took two solid drinks of the stuff, probably closer to four shots worth than two.

“ _And_ he holds his liquor,” Lance said, a little slurred. “Dream man.”

To that, Keith really did laugh. It was rough and heady, like he rarely used it.

“Yeah, people really love the whole alcoholic loner deal.”

“Is that how you get all those hot chicks? I’ll have to try it some time.”

Keith set the fifth aside and leaned back on his palms. He glanced over at Lance and flicked a brow.

“First I’m your dream man and next you’re trying to steal my dates? Slut.”

Lance scoffed loudly and held up one finger.

“First of all, _Keith_ – if that really is your name –”  
  
“Last I checked.”

“I said you _are_ a dream man, not _mine_.”

Second finger raised to the sky.

“Second, I don’t want your dates. If they’re settling for the likes of _your_ ass, I don’t want the leftovers.”

“Classy.”  
  
“ _Thiiird_!”

Third finger to the heavens, and now Keith laughed and shook his head as Lance barreled forward.

“Don’t _you_ slut shame _me_ , mister! There’s no shame in skimming the dating pool. And anyway, _you’re_ the hussy here. I see how you pull in nearly every chick that walks in The Lion.”

“You notice that, huh?” Keith said, already reaching for the fifth to take another shot.

“How could I not? You’re like a homing beacon for pussy or something.”

Keith spat rum all over the place, coughing profusely as he fell back beside Lance and cracked the fuck up. Lance looked up, chuckling with a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with Keith literally holding his stomach and belly-laughing because of _him_.

“You’re – fucking –” Keith sucked in a deep breath, released it, and wiped a tear from his eye as he finally settled. “Ridiculous.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“By me, even.”  
  
“ _Mostly_ by you.”

Lance’s lips curved as he watched the sky shift under the wobbly weight of alcohol.

“Why did you invite me to this?” Keith said without warning.

Lance slid a secret look Keith’s way. The full moon reflected blue off of his disheveled hair. Dramatic brows, thick lashes, the strong line of his nose all highlighted in silver. He looked relaxed.

He looked – wait, was that extremely fine glitter dusted along his cheekbones? Or was that the moon and rum playing tricks on him?

Lance shook off his silent reverie.

“Why wouldn’t I, man?”

“’Cause we’re not friends,” Keith said simply. “Not really.”

Lance sat up, his vision wavering a little.

“Hey, hold up. I know you better than seventy-five percent of the people in my own house right now. I’d say those aren’t bad odds.”

Keith met Lance’s eyes, his suddenly sharp smile glinting almost dangerously by moon.

“McClain, you don’t know the first, middle, or last thing about me.”

Lance made a childish face at him, scrunched up and unattractive.

“Well, same to you, buddy. Not like I _wanted_ to get to know you better or anything. Just wanted to do you a favor and get you to let loose for once.”

“Oh?” Keith shifted now, sitting up and facing Lance head-on. What was now undoubtedly glitter shimmered the high, sharp contour of his cheekbones. He leaned in too close, their lips few breaths away. “I promise you I can let loose when I have the right incentive.”

“Um.” Lance swallowed hard, his gaze flicking down to that soft, plush mouth and back to steel-grey eyes cut through with silver. “Wh-what kind of incentive?”

Keith’s attention slid downwards for just a moment, then returned. He took a breath and sat back on his hands again.

“Now that’s definitely above your pay grade to know.”

“Dude!” Lance dove forward and poked Keith’s chest with a hard finger. “Stop the tall, dark, and mysterious bullshit! No wonder you don’t have any friends if you don’t tell anybody anything _ever_. Dickhole!”

Lance leapt onto the wobbly legs and stormed off, making for the pool ladder. He’d gotten a grip on the first rung when Keith’s hand firmly grabbed Lance’s shoulder and spun him around.

“I’m _sorry_ , okay? Damn, dude. I’m sorry. It’s just – I just –” Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, his forehead wrinkling as he stared straight ahead, either at Lance’s chest or nothing at all. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m, uh – I’m very busy and it’s just easier not to make friends who’d, like, um, _expect_ stuff from me right now.”

Lance didn’t need long to consider that. He wasn’t exactly the type to hold a grudge. And now he kind of felt sorry for Keith. That was a sad way to spend the best years of your life.

“Keith,” Lance said with a wide smile. “It’s all good, man.”

Without warning, Lance took hold of Keith’s wrist – his hand had remained on Lance’s shoulder – and pulled him in for a close, boisterous bro-hug. Lance slapped Keith on the back, all the while thinking how he smelled like fresh, crisp winter mornings and fresh coffee.

“Come on,” Lance said, grin still in place as he pulled back to look at a slightly befuddled and mute Keith. “Let’s get some more beers in you. You’re not near loose enough.”

“You sound like a sexual predator.”

“Hey, man, that’s your problem for going there,” Lance said as they climbed out of the pool. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Well, we were basically just hanging out in the gutter, sooo…”

“That was an old, moldy pool! There’s a difference.”

***

“Coffee…”

Lance groaned, his head still underneath his pillow as he groped a hand out towards the other end of the mattress.

“Coffee...”

His hand landed on a face – a face that grunted. Lance pinched the nose until the person sputtered, coughed and jerked up in the bed.

“ _What_ the f–”

“K-keith,” Lance croaked, sounding genuinely broken-hearted. “I-I need… _Coffee_.”

“Where the fuck am – _oh no_. Jeezus, no. _Ugh_.” Keith’s voice became muffled as he sounded like he held his face in his hands.

“But, Keith.” Lance rolled onto his back, the pillow flopping away and exposing his poor retinas to the cruel light of day. He managed to turn his head enough to see Keith, shirtless, hunched over on himself, his face indeed covered by his hands as if he were mourning a death. “ _Keith_.”

“What – _what_?” Keith rounded on Lance, his teeth bared in a snarl. “What do you _want_ from me? Why am I in your smelly bed?”

“I remember Twister,” Lance said, closing his eyes and folding his arm across his lids. “Hunk fell on me. You won. You’re extremely bendy.”  
  
“Stop that.”  
  
“And someone threw a bucket of water on me from the second floor window.”

“That would explain why you’re not in the same clothes.”

“Pretty sure I walked in on Pidge in a threesome with two ladies.”  
  
“No, that was _me_ who was scarred for life. I just told you about it.”

“Thank _God_.”

There was a moment of silence. Lance almost fell back asleep.

“ _We_ didn’t – you and _me_ didn’t, uh –” Keith groaned into his palms again.

“Well, my ass sure as hell ain’t sore,” Lance said sleepily. “You?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”  
  
“Awkwardness resolved.” Lance sat up suddenly, grabbed Keith by the shoulders and shook him with desperation and blood-shot eyes. “Now please for the love of god, deliver me some coffee!”

Keith’s face went pale as Lance shook him. His eyes widened for a moment and he promptly threw up all over Lance’s bed.

“Okay,” Lance said numbly. “I feel like I deserved this in some way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and love are super welcome! I'd love to hear from you! I'm also on Tumblr as atomicblonde. Thank you for reading, lovelies! I hope you enjoy the fun times here, because shit about to go down real soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been told by someone recently that I’ve been a huge dick.”  
> “I don’t remember saying that. My insults are usually a lot more creative.”  
> “Not you, idiot. Shiro. I’m more inclined to believe the things _he_ says, anyway.”  
>  “Dickface."  
> “ _What_?”  
>  “Just trying out a new one.”

Lance was not used to rejection. From chicks and stuff – sure, all the time. He had rarely been emotionally invested in that shit.

But friends, family, and the people he cared about? He’d always grown up embraced by and reciprocating friendship and trust without excess drama.

So, when it dawned on him over the course of the following week that Keith was purposely avoiding him – cutting their conversations short, giving the cold shoulder – Lance had no idea how to react. After all, he’d really thought their friendship had cemented itself when Keith had vommed all over him and his sheets.

It kind of pissed him off. It kind of hurt.

And since it hurt, Lance reacted the only way he knew how. He was as much an asshole to Keith as Keith was to him.

It wasn’t like Lance could _stop_ going to The Lion. He needed his caffeine, after all. So, he kept coming. And Keith kept being a megadouche, and Lance kept mirroring the attitude.

Today, Lance was relieved to see Shiro at the register and Keith at the espresso machine, intent on making a long line of drink orders.

“Hey!” Lance said cheerfully, once it was his turn in line.

From the corner of his eye, Lance noticed Keith pop his head up, blatantly stare, then hastily look back down.

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro said warmly. “What’s your poison?”

“Weather’s awesome, so I think I’ll go for an iced coffee. But add in two shots, will ya?”

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have a single customer who orders coffee as black as you do,” Shiro said with humor as they exchanged cash and coins.

“I’m barely human without it anymore,” Lance said with a grin as he pocketed his change. “How you been? When you leaving this dump to pursue your inevitable modelling career?”

Shiro’s face went a little pink as he laughed Lance off.

“When the time’s right, man.”

“You’re wasted here,” Lance said emphatically. “ _Wasted_ , I tell you.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith snapped at the far end of the bar. “Get your drink and stop holding up the line.”

Lance raised his eyebrows slowly and made a long, dramatic point of looking over his shoulder, then the other. He met Keith’s steely gaze and held out his arms wide, silently encompassing the obvious emptiness surrounding him.

Shiro covered an obvious snort-laugh with a cough.

Keith glared and came out from around the counter. Instead of instigating Lance further, he simply brushed past and moved to the front of the store to collect litter from tables.

“He’s been like that all week,” Shiro said, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He won’t even tell _me_.”

“Wow,” Lance said, trying not to sound jealous. “I didn’t know you two were that close. Like best friends or whatever.”

Shiro aimed a knowing look his way, then leaned in over the counter and lowered his voice.

“I’ve seen him go through a lot in a short time. More than he realizes I’ve seen. He thinks that being strong alone is better than strong as a team. I guess I’ve been trying to convince him otherwise.”

Lance sighed and looked over his shoulder at Keith’s stiff back.

“But he seems so normal. I mean, for Keith.”

“Everybody’s going through something,” Shiro said, then purposely raised his voice upon Keith’s approach. “Probably even you.”

Lance grinned and knocked on the side of his head.

“Oh yeah, man. It’s never-ending up here.”

Keith scoffed as he passed by.

“I find that difficult to –”

“Hello again, Mr. Shirogane, Mr. Kogane,” a cultured, sexy English voice said from behind him. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”

Keith immediately saw and then heard the contempt emanating from Keith.

“I could say the exact same.”

Lance turned, his eyes widening at the true beauty before him.

The woman was tall and willowy, skin like a rich, milky latte, hair dyed a striking silver-white and pulled back in a tight, long ponytail. Her blue eyes were cool and reserved.

“Um, Keith?” Lance said, already approaching the woman and taking her hand to shake – read: hold it gently and never let go. “Where are you finding all of these beautiful ladies and _why_ have I never met _you_ before, gorgeous?” Lance grinned. “I’m Lance, by the way. McClain.”

“I’m –” The woman delicately tore her hand from his and wrinkled her nose. “Special Agent Allura Altea. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. McClain.” She gestured beside her with a slim hand. “This is my partner –”

“Why hello!” said the walrus-mustached ginger man who Lance hadn’t even noticed. “I am Special Agent Coran Smythe. Lovely to meet a young man with such manners, it truly is. Not like this one here, who has been less than accommodating.”

Keith’s scowl deepened. At some point, he had ended up beside Lance. In solidarity or intimidation, Lance didn’t know.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Lance said, waving him off. “He’s always like that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Passed that chance up,” Lance said breezily. Then, “So what’s, uh, what’s goin’ on here? FBI stuff? Aliens – cryptids – secret pot farms?”

“Hardly,” Agent Altea said, flicking a glance over Lance’s shoulder, probably inspecting Shiro. “We are continuing the ongoing investigation of the missing university students.”

“Oh,” Lance said. “Like Cary and them. Yeah, sad stuff. No leads yet?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information.” Agent Altea cocked her head faintly. “Did _you_ know any of the women?”

“No, uh –” Lance looked to Keith, who continued to stare at the agents, his jaw stiff. “I mean, I saw her – Cary – a few nights before she went missing but –”

“If you would take a seat with us,” Agent Altea said quickly. She eyed Keith critically. “ _Just_ Mr. McClain. Thank you, Mr. Kogane.”

Keith shrugged.

“This airhead won’t tell you anything new. Just make it fast, everyone. FBI presence and missing girl talk doesn’t exactly pull in business.”

So that was how Lance ended up spending time with an exotically beautiful, badass lady and her weird, Kiwi sidekick. He went through the night he passed Cary in detail, including what she’d said to Keith just as the door had closed.

“I mean,” Lance said, gesticulating wildly. “He _said_ she wasn’t his girlfriend. I get the impression he likes the floozies, sorry for my language. But they were definitely going out _somewhere_ that night and she had those _shoes_ on, like she was going to a strip club or some shit. But Keith is totally _not_ the type to take a date to a strip club, so maybe just a club in general? I –”

“That’s enough,” Agent Coran said quickly, his smile fleeting as both he and Agent Altea pocketed their small notebooks. “Thank you. Despite your demeanor, you’ve been quite helpful.”

Lance folded his arms behind his head.

“Yeah, I know. I’m good like that.”

Agent Altea stood, straight her creaseless overcoat, and slipped a card from her pocket.

“This has certainly been an experience. Take my card. If anything comes up, please notify me immediately.”

“Will do, pretty lady,” Lance said, shooting finger guns at her and clicking his tongue.

He watched them go with a dreamy smile, appreciating Agent Altea’s lengthy strides.

“ _Lance_!” Keith literally yelled from across the room, alerting several seated customers. His eyes were black and livid from behind the counter. “Come get your goddamn drink or I will dump it down the drain!”

Lance gave a heavy sigh as he lurched from the chair and strode over.

“ _You’re_ just jealous because I got her phone number and – _NGH_ –”

Lance found himself dragged by the collar into the back office by a deadly silent Keith.

Sputtering, Lance could only leaned against the lone workdesk on which he was shoved, and watched Keith as he turned and slammed the door.

“Dude!” Lance said, folding his arms and scrunching his face. “What the fuck is your deal? What crawled up your ass and died? Need to get laid because I feel like you probably have a rolodex of ladies who –”

“Just shut up!” Keith said, turning on him, wild-eyed and arms flailing. “Just _shut up_. Can you do that – once – _ever_? Because I’m _this_ close to paying you to!”

Lance narrowed his eyes.

“Y’know, if you didn’t want to talk then maybe you shouldn’t lock yourself in a room with me. You’ve got some serious issues to work on.”

Keith just stared at him for a long time.

“I’m only gonna tell you this once. Don’t get yourself involved with shit you’re clueless about.”

“What?”

“Listen, I know you like the attention or whatever, but federal business is the last thing you should be sticking your nose into. If you haven’t got a clue, don’t pretend like you do.”

“Oh and you _do_ have a clue?” Lance said, pushing off the desk and taking a step closer in defiance.

Keith’s brows lowered, his expression grave. He closed the distance between them, his chin raised to meet Lance’s gaze. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost threatening.

“I’ve been around the block more times than your innocent, skinny ass. I’ve learned when to keep my head down.”

Lance leaned in, his eyes narrowed as he looked down his nose at Keith.

“Oh, you mean how you’ve kept your head down since my party?”

Keith’s unwavering stare finally broke as he looked away from Lance’s face.

“That was –”

“Oh, don’t worry, buddy,” Lance said, dropping a hand onto Keith’s shoulder. “I won’t _expect_ anything from you, okay? You’re just my local barista, after all.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith called out as he passed by and made for the door.

Something in Lance’s chest tingled as he looked over his shoulder, hopeful.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t talk to those people anymore.”

Lance’s face dropped.

“I may be a weirdo, but I’m not piece of work like you.”

Lance headed out and shut the door behind him, only to have his arm grabbed by Shiro on the way.

“Hey,” Shiro said, his expression exuding concern. “Everything okay?”

“Well, aside from the fact that I just discovered Keith is a half-human from the planet Douchenozzle, everything is fucking peachy.”

“Aw, man.” Shiro scratched the back of his head, frowning in thought. “Don’t worry about him. Police put him on edge.”

“It’s not like he’s some criminal mastermind or anything. Dude needs to chill. And not ride my ass over me doing my civic duty and talking to the Feds.”

“I hear you.” Shiro clapped Lance on the back in comfort. “Whatever you can do to help is always welcome. These disappearances are getting frighteningly out of hand and this town could use anyone who cares about it. Girls were missing before January, but written off as runaways because they were more troubled than most. Now it seems like there’s a pattern.”

“Really?” Lance met Shiro’s concerned expression curiously. “Where’d you hear something like that?”

“Oh, uh –” Shiro turned away to wipe down the espresso machine. “It was on the news or something recently. Can’t remember.”

“Freaky shit.”

“Anyway,” Shiro said, clearing his throat as he turned with a smile. “Your coffee has gone cold. I’ll make you another. On me.”

“Shiro,” Lance said just as Keith opened the office door. “I could kiss you.”

Both Shiro and Lance turned in tandem to stare at Keith.

Motionless, Keith stared at Lance. With a deadpan expression, he shut the door in his own face.

***

Monday’s classes were long and arduous as it was, Lance though as he walked into the unlocked house late in the afternoon. But Monday’s classes were even more unbearable when Lance hadn’t been to The Lion all weekend and was getting his coffee fix from the shitty cafeteria for the last three days.

Avoiding Keith was difficult when Lance realized he’d actually spent his every free moment with the guy.

“Who’s that?” Pidge yelled from the living room as Lance slammed the perpetually unlocked door behind him.

“I’ve come to grace you with my presence,” Lance said as he entered the living room and threw his backpack to the floor.

He noticed that Pidge was not alone. He had Nyma sat on the floor in front of the big screen, Pidge looking on as Nyma smashed her way through Dragon Age, her fingers moving at lightning speed with the current battle.

“Weird seeing you here,” Pidge said, leaning back on his hands and looking over his shoulder with a grin. “It’s almost like you have a life or something.”

“Hardy harr, shortstack. I’ve always had a life. Everyone loves me. It’s just been a long and shitty day and I don’t wanna do anything except marinate in my own juices on the couch for the rest of it.”

“ _Ew_ ,” Pidge and Nyma said in tandem.

Lance grinned to himself and fell back into the sunken, ripped leather couch, legs splayed, mind already wandering back to Keith.

They’d had all three classes together today. It wasn’t unusual for them to not sit together. In fact, they never had. Lance was always boisterously attracting people to his orbit, and Keith always sat at the back. That’s how it always had been.

But it was weird seeing him, knowing he couldn’t walk back to the café together. Knowing that he couldn’t throw him stupid looks in class on the off chance that Keith glanced over.

Which he never did. Not today, anyway.

What was happening here? Had Lance really don’t something the night of the party that was so distasteful to Keith that he was no longer interested in a friendship? Lance was a fucking awesome friend!

“Okay,” Pidge said, “You’re uncharacteristic silence is giving me the heebie jeebies. What’s the deal?”

“I’m –” Lance didn’t even want to go there. “Just thinking about those missing girls again.”

“Oh,” Nyma said, brutally axing her opponent. “Pidge told me how you saw Cary a couple nights before she was declared missing. Weird stuff.”

“Yeah,” Lance echoed. “Weird.”

“Personally, I’m not super worried about Cary,” Nyma said, her fingers flying. “She’s always been a flake. Shit grades, shittier boyfriends, always borrowing money and never returning. She was always saying how she didn’t even know why she was here. Probably finally skipped town.”

“You guys were friends?” Lance asked, moving from a slouch to lean forward intently. He stared at the back of Nyma’s head.

Nyma laughed.

“Not exactly. We worked together for a very, _very_ short time. But she never did stop talking about herself. One of those people where when you ask them how they are, they actually tell you. For an hour.”

“Worked together? But you’re a – er –”

Lance wasn’t sure if he was supposed to know what he knew.

“A stripper? Don’t worry, it’s not a bad word. Yeah, she started on – well, the night you’d seen her, I might bet.”

The night Keith saw her too. Lance was starting to get a headache. Caffeine withdrawals.

“Does the, uh, FBI know all that?”  
  
“I dunno, probably. They came in, asked questions. The girls and I know how to keep our mouths shut. That place is our livelihood right now. Some of those women are single moms. No one wants any trouble stirred up there, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, unfocused. “I guess.”

An unfamiliar, troubled feeling crept up Lance’s spine. Like that time last year he woke up from a party, high in a tree with no memory of how he got there or how to get down. Lance cleared his throat awkwardly.

“How did you – do you, like, uh, even become a stripper?”

At that, Nyma finally looked over her shoulder and smiled, her large violet eyes full of feminine mystery.

“It’s all about who you know, honey.”

Lance couldn’t help but wonder who the hell two such different people as Nyma and Cary both knew.

Oh well, Lance though as he escaped to the kitchen for a lunch of Red Bull and Captain Crunch.

None of his business, anyway.

***

Tuesday came with no classes and Lance found himself at the campus gym pool, doing countless laps. He’d taken his high school swim team to state multiple years in a row. Swimming still remained his ultimate form of exercise, distraction, and release.

Minus sex. But that was few and far between.

Right now, he definitely craved all three. He couldn’t place a specific finger on what was really wrong with him or why he couldn’t break this foreign lethargy that seemed to plague him.

But after an intensive forty-five minutes of straight laps, Lance was finally so exhausted that he didn’t care. He popped from the pool, his muscles aching pleasantly, and hit the showers.

Scrubbed down, feeling shiny and new – definitely not like a virgin – Lance his blue towel low around his waist, his damp spikes of hair trickling down his chest and spine.

He wandered into the dressing room, headed for his own locker –

And found himself standing square in front of a sweaty, disheveled Keith with no shirt on, only basketball shorts.

Both of them exchanged wide—eyed looks, but Lance was the first to recover – at least, externally.

“Mulletbrain,” Lance said with a nod, turning his back to Keith and punching the passcode into his locker.

Keith didn’t say anything, but Lance could hear him opening his locker.

Lance pulled out his boxers from his gym bag, dropped his towel, and proceeded to slip into his thin, tight boxers.

A locker slammed behind him and Keith yelped in obvious pain, followed by a breathless, “ _Oh fuck_.”

Lance whipped around, a smartass comment on his sharp tongue. But all sass dropped when he saw Keith on the bench, clutching a finger that was already turning purple.

“Dude!” Lance rushed over and grabbed Keith’s hand for inspection. “What the fuck did you do to yourself?”

Keith didn’t meet Lance’s eyes, and his face was red, probably from pain as he looked away.

“Slammed my – _ugh_ – slammed it in the locker.”

“The fuck?” Lance held Keith’s hand firmly, cupped in both of his, and glared down at the darkening finger. “You need ice, ASAP. I’ll get some at the front desk. You just wait –”

Lance was already up and making a hurried beeline for the door.

He heard Keith call him, though he went ignored.

“Lance – you’re not wearing any clothes!”

Lance burst through the doors. Oblivious to stares, he hurried to the front desk and cut in line.

“Need an icepack. Now. Uh, please.”

He was back at Keith’s side in minutes, sitting close beside him, wrapping the thin, pliable ice pack around Keith’s finger.

“Hold that there a while. You don’t want your finger nail falling off.”

But Lance didn’t let go. He just kept holding Keith’s hand.

Keith just nodded and looked down at his finger.

“You really, uh, jumped into action there.”

“With enough siblings to count on two hands, a brother learns how to act fast,” Lance said with a light laugh.

Keith looked up, interest in his eyes. It was the first time in over a week he’d looked like the Keith which Lance had known.

“That many?”

“Yup. I’m one of eight. Three above me, four below.”

“No wonder you’re the dumbass jester. Middle Child Syndrome.”

“Um, Awesome Syndrome, I think you mean. And I’ll have you know I am also the peacekeeper.”

“If you’re the peaceful one, it terrifies me to think what the rest of your family are like.”

“Hey,” Lance bumped Keith’s side with a genuine smile. “We’re Cuban and Irish. There’s a lot of tempers flying.”

“Again – terrifying.”

Lance chuckled and glared at Keith’s now black fingertip.

“How’s it faring?”

“Going numb from the ice. I’ve had worse.” Keith continued to look down. Quietly, he said, “You didn’t have to help.”

“I’m not a complete asshole. I’m not _not_ going to help.”

“I’d have deserved it.”

Lance raised an eyebrow and leaned towards the blushing shell of Keith’s ear. Their bare shoulders brushed, electricity humming beneath Lance’s skin. Keith smelled like musky, appealing sweat and today’s rain.

“Are you saying you did something wrong in the first place?” Lance said, his lips curved.

Keith was silent for a moment, obviously struggling with something. His cheeks were flushed.

“I’ve been told by someone recently that I’ve been a huge dick.”

“I don’t remember saying that. My insults are usually a lot more creative.”

“Not you, idiot. Shiro. I’m more inclined to believe the things _he_ says, anyway.”

“Dickface.”  
  
“ _What_?”

“Just trying out a new one.”

Keith stared at him like he was an alien.

“Okay, well, anyway. Sorry for being a dick before.”

Lance felt a wave of dizzying warmth slide through his limbs like he was drunk.

“Oh yeah?” Say that one again.”

Keith narrowed his eyes.

“Hell no. Listen, there’s just… A lot going on in my life and you’ve been so –”

“I’m what? Obnoxious?”

“Nice. To me. For no reason. It’s – it’s just weird.” Keith turned, startling a bit at Lance’s close proximity, his eyes widening and scanning Lance’s expression.

Lance raised his eyebrows, a slow smile spreading with realization. Keith was out of his element. He was obviously so used to life being shitty that when it wasn’t, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“If you think _I’m_ nice to you, how crappy is everyone _else_ to you?”

“Oh, shut up and take my fucking apology.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance said, his face too close. “It’s taken.”

Keith’s gaze lingered low, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips quickly before disappearing. He peered up, meeting Lance’s intent stare.

“Wanna go for coffee?” Keith said, the corner of his lips curved in an almost unsure smile. “ _Not_ at The Lion.”

“Now _that_ ,” Lance said as he stood and remembered his state of undress, but chose to ignore that awkwardness. “Is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“But, uh, maybe clothes first.”

“Yes,” Lance said, looking down with his hands on his hips. “Can’t be giving this away for free.”

This time, Keith genuinely laughed, and Lance could definitely confirm that he was drunk on this guy.

***

“Wait. Hold up. No.” Lance held up a hand and leaned across the cheap, Formica table of the local diner. “You’re telling me you still live in the _dorm_?”

“Yup. Saves money.”

“But – you bring chicks back there? Do you have no respect for yourself as a Junior?”

Keith flicked a dark brow.

“I don’t take anyone there. And I’m actually not sleeping without. Haven’t in a long time.” Lance collapsed back in his seat in disbelief. “But. All the girls?

“Dating around is one thing.”

Lance’s jaw dropped.

“You’re telling me you have a buffet of women and you don’t ever sit down to eat?”  
  
“You are seriously vile. Did PornHub solely raise you?”

“I’m just baffled, dude! _Baffled_. You’re nuts.”

“They’re just there for a fun night, I guess,” Keith said with a shrug.

He looked up at the waitress who brought their food and gave a small, polite smile.

Lance was still boggling at him.

“So, you see a girl once, and then nothing?”

“Something like that,” Keith said casually, bringing up his burger to his mouth. “They’re all just. Well, _boring_.” He took a bite.

“Maybe you should be looking out of your comfort zone,” Lance said, working on cutting into a gigantic chocolate chip and whipped cream waffle.

“Maybe I’m working on that,” Keith said, picking at his fries. “But right now, my life isn’t exactly suited to long term anything.”

“What’s with all this stress you keep talking about, dude? You know I’ll listen. Can’t promise I won’t interrupt, but I’d listen.”

“Such a tempting offer. No thanks.”

“Well, at the very least, move in with me,” Lance found himself saying. “No rent. We’ve got an empty room collecting dust.”

If it were one of his best friends or a family member in a financial pinch, he’d at least offer his couch if it would help. But in this case, they had an entire empty room.

Keith stopped mid-chew and just stared. He seemed to be staring at Lance a lot today.

“No,” he said, mouth full.

Lance blinked, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

“No? Why not? It’s free. Well, there’s no bed, but we’ve got a futon we can move in there. At the very least, it would be less stress for you – wouldn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“So, why?”

Keith sipped his coffee, considering Lance over the rim with dark, sober eyes.

“One, I don’t like handouts. Never have. I make my own way just fine. Two, I keep strange hours that would undoubtedly annoy someone at some point.”

“Then don’t think of it as a handout,” Lance said. “Think of it as, I dunno, friends being friends. Y’know, like real friends who do shit for each other, have each other’s backs and know the other will have theirs when the time comes. I’m just watching your back, man. It’s no biggie.”

Keith was no longer even pretending to eat. He was eyeing Lance’s face warily.

“That’s a big deal to me.”

Lance shrugged.

“Then make sure you’ve got _my_ back in return and we’ll always be even.”

For a moment, something shifted in Keith’s expression, his softening grey eyes. He appeared small in the large booth, maybe unsure as he looked down at his plate.

“Okay. I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying! I just love writing this. We have so far to go. So many mysteries to unlock and people and motives and backgrounds to uncover. And plenty of Klance NONSENSE. Keith seriously has no idea what he's just agreed to, hahaha. As always, I love hearing from you, and kudos are welcome. I'm on tumblr as atomicblonde if you ever want to drop by and chat! Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk dropped his spatula and did a double-take, his eyes bugging.  
> “He did _what_?”  
>  Lance’s looked around quickly, noticing immediately that Keith paused mid-conversation to glare across the yard at the two of them. Lance jumped up and gripped Hunk’s collar to tug him in conspiratorially.  
> “ _Shhh_! Dammit, Hunk, don’t let him know you know!”  
>  “I’m pretty sure he knows that I know, Lance. I can feel lasers digging into the side of my head.”  
> “ _Fuuu_ –”

Keith Kogane kept some _strange_ fucking hours.

Not hours during which he was actually fucking. Strange FUCKIN’ hours. Like that. He definitely hadn’t been joking.

Despite living together – and this hadn’t taken much convincing of Pidge and Hunk. Keith was adamant he would help pay for amenities and his own food, and Lance’s friends were simply not the kind of people to turn down a person in need.

Anyway, despite living together for one week, Lance found that he still saw Keith at The Lion more consistently than he did at home.

Keith woke up earlier than everyone in the house, _allegedly_ to ‘work out’ before classes. Just what kind of mystical beast did such a thing?

He took more classes than Lance. This became clear fairly quickly and irked the ever-living fuck out of him.

After classes, Keith went straight to The Lion. Lance had always known Keith to work there on Mondays, Wednesday, Fridays, and Sundays. But I hadn’t really dawned on him that Keith actually worked no less than eight to eleven hour shifts on those days. Whoever Keith’s boss was, he mercilessly worked him to the bone. And Keith never complained. Not once.

But it didn’t end there. On those same exact days which Keith worked, he did not come home. He did not come home until the hours just before daylight.

Where he went, what he was doing, remained an utter blank to Lance. On the only two occasions he approached Keith about it – once at breakfast when Keith was sullen and sleepy, and another time at The Lion when he was… sullen and busy – Keith had hardcore shut him down.

That wasn’t to say that they weren’t better together in the past days. They were. Ceaseless bickering ensued as ever, as well as a constant impatience under Keith’s skin to be moving and doing and keeping forever busy, but they were more understanding of each other, and maybe a little more open.

Keith reminded Lance of the alley cats that swarmed the area of his family’s home. Kicked too many times, limping on three legs, and ready to bite the hand that feeds.

Luckily for Keith, Lance had always been a deft touch with those feral assholes.

***

It’s not like Lance stayed up waiting for Keith. It wasn’t!

Lance had a fifteen page psych paper due and he _maaay_ have waited until the night before to write it from beginning to end. Because a man needed to live on the edge, once in a while.

It wasn’t because he forgot. It wasn’t!

Anyway, it was just a happy coincidence that Lance was hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table, on his third Red Bull of the day, and typing like a man on speed. Which, he basically was at this point. It was okay to be so caffeinated that your hands shook, right? Right. Great. Good. Let’s do this thing.

The front door clicked closed quietly and Lance paused to look up and squint blearily at the wall.

“Keith?” Lance said, his voice slightly raspy from disuse. “That you? If you’re a robber coming to rob me, you should probably pick a house that doesn’t look like it’s come out the bad end of a hurricane. If you’re Keith, do you have coffee?”

Slow footsteps made their way to the kitchen, the doorway framing Keith’s narrow-eyed visage.

“You do realize that I can’t just pull coffee out of my ass? The coffee machines stay at The Lion.”

“Well, _you’re_ useless. Okay, not useless. You’re very helpful, very dutiful, like a little worker bee times one hundred. But not on the brink of extinction. Or _are you_ on the brink of extinction list because there _is_ only _one_ of you?”

Keith approached the table warily, picking up the cans which littered the floor. He held them all in one arm, looking between them and Lance’s feet jittering beneath the table.

“Are you going to have a heart attack?” he said with careful slowness.

“Y’know, that just might get me out of this paper! You really are a smart guy, Keith. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“And you need sleep.”

“Can’t. Must type all of the words.”

“ _Oookay_ , buddy,” Keith said, passing by the drop the Red Bulls in the trash. He turned around and leaned against the counter top, his ankles crossed, and his head cocked in consideration. His hair was in that stubby ponytail again, and cooled sweat seemed to have curled his bangs haphazardly around his face. It was kind of _a lot_ distracting. “When is that paper due?”

“Class tomorrow morning. Ten in the morning.”

Keith slipped his phone from his back pocket and checked the time.

“So it’s three forty-three right now. Go to bed. I’ll wake you up at seven, you have somewhere around two and a half hours to finish. That sound like enough time from where you’re at right now?”

Lance blinked at this strange thing called Logic.

“I mean. Yes? But, uh, I mean, once I’m asleep there’s no way I’m waking up again. I’ll be KO’ed. Down for the count. Finished. De –”

“I’ll wake you up.”

Lance’s expression broke down as he gazed up at Keith in pure puppy adoration.

“ _Keith_.”

Lance leapt from his chair and wrapped his arms tightly around Keith’s arms, caging him in his tight hold. He buried his face in the crook of Lance’s neck, inhaling his scent of sweat and – cologne? That was a new one. It didn’t really smell like something Keith would wear either, but oh well. Everyone can’t have taste. The guy had a mullet, after all.

“Lance,” Keith said, his face forcefully pressed into Lance’s collarbone. “Let me go before I knee your dick.”

Lance loosened his hold and let his arms drop, but instead of taking a step back, he just looked down and smiled dreamily – deliriously – at Keith.

“You’re amazing.”

“And you’re worse than drunk,” Keith said, slipping past Lance and standing a few feet away with his arms folded in obvious disapproval. “You’re slaphappy. Go to bed.”

“Take me there,” Lance said, literally giggling as he looped his arm with Keith’s and leaned against the surprisingly sturdy frame of his body. All that working out gave him some serious stocky muscle.

“You’re such a creeper,” Keith said, but was already leading him, arm in arm, through the rooms and to the stairs.

“I feel like we’re in My Fair Lady,” Lance said with a snort as they went up the stairs together.

“Who’s the fair lady in this scenario?” Keith said, a smile in his voice.

“I mean, I’ll let you be her this one time, if you need to.”

“So generous. So thoughtful.”

“I know it, man. It’s my cross to bear.”

Keith laughed out loud, dislodging himself from Lance when they stopped in front of the open door to his bedroom.

They were both smiling at each other like idiots for a moment, Lance leaning in just a little to memorize the deep grey of Keith’s eyes. Keith's gaze went stormy then, his smile fading back to those soft, sober lips.

Lance shifted forward subtly, his hand coming up between them, thumb brushing against the high, sharp contour of Keith’s cheekbone. Keith let him, his lashes fluttering as he flicked his attention lower.

Lance’s smile bloomed once more.

“Is that glitter on your face again?”

Keith’s eyes snapped open, locked with Lance’s, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

“I’ll wake you up later. Sleep.”

With that, Keith spun on his heel, made for his room across the hall and slammed the door.

***

The week went on without much drama.

Pidge upgraded the washing machine to faster clean loads, but in turn it now sounded like a rocket launching off the pad, and in turn everyone started to use the machine even less.

Hunk accidentally ate two massive pot brownies from a complete stranger handing them out at school – “Who the hell turns down free food? Would _you_ turn down free sex?” – and got so mind-numbingly stoned that he spent all of Thursday cooking an entire Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings.

And Lance made the first serious long-term commitment of his lifetime. He bought a Keurig coffee and tea maker.

Saturday rolled in and, as usual, it was party time. Not the epic Spring Break party of a couple weeks ago – Lance was still finding items of strangers’ clothing around the house, panties under the couch and his own bed, and a decorative mural of space drawn entirely in black, purple, pink, and blue Sharpie underneath the kitchen table.

This was just the usual weekend college party, held in the backyard to make the most of the cool, fresh spring nights. Nyma had come, bearing long strands of fairy lights, which she and Shay strung up, zigzagged from the front to the back of the yard. Hunk fired up the grill, Pidge had gotten his sound system set up, and Lance mostly made sure he looked super hot. That was his main job in life, anyway.

By ten in the evening, the party was in full swing, the backyard crowded with a good thirty people. The pool floor was slowly filling with a layer of empty red Solo cups, beer cans, and trash. The music thumped and lit up the air with vibrant, catchy beats. Hunk had a line of beer-can chickens finishing up on the grill, and poor, hungry students who had spent the week living off ramen and McDonald’s fries were circling around him like a starving mob.

And Keith was there.

Not that they were particularly interacting right now, but that didn’t much matter to Lance. It was just nice to him around. To see him including himself in the house activities. He was talking to some chick - no surprises there – but at least he looked comfortable and relaxed, his fourth full drink in hand as he nodded along to whatever the girl was saying.

Lance pursed his lips a little and studied Keith’s expression. Did he look bored, interested? Did he seem attracted to this person? Lance would be the first to admit he could barely read Keith, so he wasn’t sure why he was bothering to look in the first place.

“Looks like you’re having the least fun out of anybody,” said a guy who was approaching him and handing him what smelled like a very stiff drink. “Which I get the feeling is rare for you, considering your last party.”

Lance blinked up at a tall, Abercrombie model-looking guy. He had shaggy, bleached hair and dark roots, a wide, chiseled jaw, and a broad, lazy smile. Actually, he looked more like worked at Pac Sun or something and probably still lived in his mom’s basement. But he seemed friendly and not entirely braindead, despite his looks.

Lance smiled in return, accepting the drink and taking a sip of what tasted basically like pure alcohol. That would put some hair on his chest.

“The night is young. The life of the party will come out pretty damn soon. Probably after this poison you’re feeding me.”

The guy laughed, his voice pleasantly gravely.

“Glad to be of help, dude. I’m Rolo, by the way,” he said, holding out his free, non-drink hand. He took Lance’s before he could fully hold it out and held it warmly, a little long, his eyes never leaving Lance’s face. “Nyma’s brother.”

“Brother?” Lance gave him a once-over and shook his head, grinning. “Man, I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You, you two are definitely siblings. But I don’t remember you from Spring Break.”

“ _Duuude_ , you were _fucked up_. Like – woah. You were practically climbing the walls. I’ve never seen anything like it. I wanted to meet you all night to hang, but it was like chasing the roadrunner or something.”

Lance laughed and shook his head a little, trying to clear the fog of that night. He felt like something was seriously missing.

“Well, that doesn’t sound unlike me. I don’t think it’ll get to that level of bro-ness tonight. Last time I ended up puked on and I don’t wanna repeat that.”

“The little guy, right?” Rolo said, jerking a thumb in a general direction across the lawn.

Lance frowned and looked over.

“The little –” He spotted Keith.

Keith, who happened to be staring directly at them with black, unreadable eyes. His mouth was a sober line as that same chick chattered away to him.

“Oh.” Lance said, holding his arm up high and waving ostentatiously, grinning. “Yup. Him.”

“Guess it happens to the best of us.”

“Totally.”

Lance took another large gulp of his drink, making a grossed-out face, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he fought back a gag.

Rolo tossed his head back and laughed, then reached out and slapped Lance’s shoulder, his hand lingering and resting there. He met Lance’s eyes warmly.

“I knew I’d like you. You’re cool, man.”

Lance felt a little hot under that attentive expression and large, wide-palmed hand. It was kind of nice. The attention, the appreciation.

“Hey, you seem cool, too. I’m glad you got to tag along with your sis tonight.”

Rolo’s hand slid down Lance’s shoulder, lightly gripped his upper arm as he leaned a step in.

“Right now, I think I’m feeling _really_ lucky that I came.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Lance felt a little dizzy, a little breathless. “That’s, uh, wow. You’re – about me.”

Rolo’s smile widened, his hand gliding down to link his fingers around Lance’s wrist.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Lance was not used to being hit on. Like, ever. That was just not a thing that happened.

It was kind of empowering, actually.

Lance took one long, burning drink, worked up his nerve, and took his own step forward.

“Listen, uh, Rolo. Do you wanna –”

“ _Lance_ , I need you,” said Keith – _Keith_?! – in a rush as he suddenly approached, fisted his hand in the shoulder of Lance’s shirt and dragged him away sideways without a word or a look to Rolo.

Lance spluttered, but allowed himself to be dragged by Keith into the kitchen. The room was quiet and empty, but the displeasure emanating from Keith as he shut the door and rounded on Lance was loud enough.

“Lance, that guy is an epic creep,” Keith said, his eyes dark and heated. “I know that ‘smart’ isn’t necessarily your strong point –”

“Hey, fuck you!”

“But that guy is a sleaze. Trust me.”

Lance folded his arms and jut a hip.

“Oh yeah? Because he seems like a fine-ass gentleman to me. Unlike some people.”

Keith scoffed a short laugh.

“ _That_ your type? He’s about as interesting as a loaf of white bread, Lance. On top of that, I happen to know that Mr Wonderbread over there will sleep with anyone with a pulse.”

Lance narrowed his eyes and stepped into Keith’s space, that familiar fire flaring in his stomach whenever he went head to head with him.

“You saying only people with no standards would go after me?”

Keith boggled for a moment, his eyes widening and his hands stuttering in the air like he’d forgotten how to function.

“W- _what_? No! _Jeezus_ , Lance. I’m watching your back here.”

“You saying you’re watching my ass?”

Keith’s lips thinned as he rolled his eyes.

“It’s so skinny I’d be surprised anyone would be able to find it in the first place.”

“ _Pffft_ ,” Lance said, taking one final move towards Keith, leaning his face in with a grin. “Like Captain Straight over here can talk about that, buddy.”

Keith’s eyes went black now, dangerous and depthless. His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t flinch from Lance’s proximity.

“Like brainless bi boys can’t even start to talk about who is and isn’t straight. _Buddy_.”

Lance opened his mouth for a comeback, but froze as Keith’s words short-circuited his brain. Their faces were so close that Lance could smell beer and whiskey on Keith’s breath, and the heady musk clinging to his pale skin.

“Wait,” Lance said, blinking, “ _What_?”  
  
Keith’s brows drew in like he was in pain.

“You really are an idiot.”  
  
His full lips twisted in a scowl as he grabbed the nape of Lance’s neck, yanked him in, and smashed his mouth to Lance’s.

Twin strikes of shock and lust snapped through Lance’s core like lightning. His body went instantly electric, his jeans going tight at the crotch as he opened his mouth to welcome Keith’s aggressive tongue.

Keith assaulted him with mouth and tongue and teeth alone, and Lance battled him in turn without thought or sense. Keith devoured him like a man starved, and fuck If Lance knew why or cared.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lance breathed as their lips briefly parted. He didn’t get to say anything more, though, because Keith was digging his fingertips into Lance’s barbs of hair and pulling him in for a second round.

This time, Lance couldn’t help but touch. Keith wasn’t close enough. Lance reached blindly, wrapping himself around Keith however he could – a hand sliding around the waistband of his jeans and slipping down the small of his back to skim the band of his boxers, his free arm simply wrapping around Keith’s body and pulling him in tightly, desperately close.

Keith’s obvious arousal pressed against Lance’s thigh, and Keith hissed into Lance’s mouth at the contact – a noise which Lance greedily lapped up and swallowed. Holding onto Keith was like holding a live wire. He stole Lance’s breath with every small noise, every time his nails dug moons into his scalp and tugged his mouth closer.

No one had ever kissed Lance like this. Was it the alcohol between them enhancing things, or was this just the way he and Keith would be if, if –

Keith abruptly pulled his mouth away, his gaze deep and dark as his wide pupils while he peered up at Lance with pink, swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Their limbs remained entwined in each other, a deep embrace that couldn’t be misconstrued for anything but deep, impatient lust.

And Lance – well, his brain was scrambled eggs.

“Um,” was all Lance could come up with.

Keith seemed to be searching Lance’s face for something, though Lance couldn’t imagine what it was. Lance knew he was pretty much an open book about everything. There wasn’t a lot to him if Keith was searching for secrets or revelations.

“What do you remember of that night at the party?” Keith said suddenly, his eyes clearing, sharpening like he could cut Lance open and discover everything there was to learn about him.

Lance whirled a little at the question, looking around the room as if they would tell him the right answer.

“Uh – not… much? What should I be remembering? Did I do something stupid?”

Keith gave him a final flinty stare before rolling his eyes and pulling away. He made a show of straightening out his clothes while he spoke, looking down at his creased t-shirt as he tugged on it.

“Extremely stupid. But at least you don’t remember so you can save yourself the embarrassment. Anyway –”

“Wait, wait, wha – what just happened here?” Lance gestured broadly between them, his eyes a little manic. “Are we just, uh, or –”

“I was just proving a point,” Keith said with a raised eyebrow, his eyes perfectly cool.

“I think I missed the point,” Lance said, approaching Keith hungrily. “Maybe you can prove it again.”

Keith’s lips quirked, his gaze showing a flash of desire before his expression clamped up again.  
  
“You’re straight up stupid, sometimes – you know that?”

“Says you!”

“Just stay away from Rolo,” Keith said, turning and making for the door. His hand was on the knob when he peered over his shoulder, his eyebrows low. “He’d be trouble for you.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Look who’s talking. I still don’t know what just happened.”

“It wasn’t anything, Lance. Just distracting you from Rolo for the rest of the night. Don’t think too much on it, you might hurt yourself.”

Lance’s jaw dropped as Keith shut the door behind him.

Well, if he’d wanted Lance turned off from Rolo for the night, he’d definitely done his job.

Just what the hell _was_ that?

Still puzzling and quite literally scratching his head like a monkey, Lance made his way back into the cool night air and noise.

Giving Keith a wide berth, Lance approached Hunk and Shay at the grill.

“Smells good,” Lance said, sniffing like a dog at the beer-can chicken and additional cheddar-stuffed burgers. “Gimme.”

Hunk smacked the top of Lance’s head.

“ _Git_ – git, you. They’re not ready.”

Lance whimpered.

“Okay, but I’m waiting here ‘til they are. I deserve the first one. Oh, and I deserve _this_ –”

Lance left and returned with a bottle of Jack, taking a mean swig of it and making a face.

“Aaand, one more.” Another swig, followed by a cough. “Okay, yeah, I’m on my way to better.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Hunk said, eyeing him critically from head to toe.

“Oh, you mean other than Keith just made out with me and acted like he’d done me a favor? Nothing, nothing at all.”

“Oh, okay.” Hunk dropped his spatula and did a double-take, his eyes bugging. “He did _what_?”  
  
Lance’s looked around quickly, noticing immediately that Keith paused mid-conversation to glare across the yard at the two of them. Lance jumped up and gripped Hunk’s collar to tug him in conspiratorially.

“ _Shhh_! Dammit, Hunk, don’t let him know you know!”

“I’m pretty sure he knows that I know, Lance. I can feel lasers digging into the side of my head.”

“ _Fuuu_ –” Lance bit off his swear and continued to grip Hunk’s face too close. “Don’t you dare tell anyone. _I_ don’t even know why he did it. It was fuckin’ weird. First I was about to get it with Rolo and Keith _flew_ in and swept me away and _yelled_ at me and –”

“That sounds like jealousy to me, Lance.”

“Except he like sucked my face off and then acted totally cool about it, like it was nothing! What do I do with _that_ , Hunk – _hmmm_? Just, _what_?”

“Okay, first of all,” Hunk said, dislodging Lance’s hold and leading his hands back to himself. “Calm your tits. Second of all, Keith is clearly freaky for you. If you don’t think so, go pay Rolo some more attention and you’ll see for yourself.”

Lance made a face.

“I don’t even want to, now. I just want to pity-drink myself into a stupor and wake up in the courtyard fountain.”

“Again? Let’s not repeat last year.”

“Hey, boys,” Nyma said, approaching them with a drink in her hand and an easy smile on her cherry-red lips. She was perfectly made-up as ever, her frayed jean shorts way too short for this cool, spring evening. “What’s up?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” they both said in tandem, not sounding suspicious at all.

“We were talking about Rolo,” Lance said quickly with a wavering smile.

“Oh,” Nyma said, her smile widening to show off perfect teeth. “Yeah, he was talking about you too. He seems to really like you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Y’know?”

“I – think so?” Lance said with an uneasy chuckle.

“Well, I’ll text you his number so you can message him sometime. I know he thinks you’re super cute and funny.”

Nyma pulled out her phone from her bra before Lance could retort, and sent the phone number over.

“There!”

“Er, thank you?”

“Hey, you know what else is nice about tonight?” Nyma said, as if she suddenly remembered and seemed quite delighted. She gestured across the lawn. “Seeing Keith here, looking almost happy and social with all these people around.”  
  
“You think _that’s_ his happy face,” Lance said flatly, blatantly staring at Keith’s profile.

Keith clearly caught the feeling, because he glanced over and merely narrowed his eyes at Lance. He waved at Nyma, lips curved slightly.

What a big bag of dicks.

Then Lance frowned, eyeing Nyma.

“You sound like you know him well.”

“We’re getting closer as time goes on,” Nyma said with a little shrug. “I’m just glad we got the same night off so we could hang out off the clock.”

That’s right, she was at The Lion now. Not that Lance ever personally saw her.

“Food’s ready!” Hunk hollered into the rambunctious depths of the party. Everybody cheered and avalanched over to the grill.

Lance did not get his fucking burger.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo-eee, ya'll. Next chapter is gonna give us a run for our money, I tells ya! Tune in soon if you want a peek into the world of Nyma's strip club. And if you liked this, let me know! Or, even better, let other people know. It's such a joy to write this for you all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well _excuse_ me for being just the tiniest bit surprised to arrive here with the expectation of perving on titties and encountering _your_ glittering purple ass instead.”
> 
> “That’s the one place that _isn’t_ covered in glitter,” Keith said, seemingly mostly to himself.

  
“I feel so wrong right now,” Hunk said as Pidge drove over potholed back streets with the strip club nearing. “Like, is this cheating? Is it still cheating if I’m not enjoying being there? Is it only cheating if I look – or touch? Should I text Shay and –”

“Dude,” Pidge said flatly. “If you watch porn and jack it, you’re as close to your flimsy definition of cheating as you would be sitting in a chair watching a nameless chick stick her titties in your face.”

Hunk went silent and contemplative at that.

“Okay, well… I’ll at least text Shay and tell her where I’m going.”

“Your funeral,” Pidge said with a shrug, pulling the car into a full parking lot. A large, neon sign in cursive scroll simply read, Galra.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hunk said, dropping his phone to his lap in a panic. He began to clutch at the door handle. “Let me out! Free me! I need to go home!”

“Well, that’s just too bad,” Pidge said without inflection. “Because we’re here. Also, you know full well that your car door doesn’t open unless someone opens it from the outside.”

“Oh god,” Hunk said, dropping his forehead onto the dashboard with a resounding _thunk_. “I’m dead. I never even got to finish my top ten restaurants to eat at list.”

“Come on, now,” Lance finally said from the back seat where he’d stretched out his lanky legs. “It’ll be fine. I mean, I haven’t been to this place specifically, but strip clubs are way more chill than you’re imagining. Mostly.”

“And this one is a good one,” Pidge said as he parked. “From what Nyma told me.”

“It’s not weird for you to see your girl throw her coochie in peoples’ faces?” Lance asked as they unloaded from the car into the crisp night air. Midnight in spring smelled invigorating, despite the air of desperation wafting from the losers walking into Galra.

Not _them_ , obviously. No losers here.

Lance slid off his military jacket, threw it in the back seat of the car, and slammed the door. He trailed behind Pidge and Hunk, shortening his stride so he didn’t step on the backs of Pidge’s shoes.

Pidge shook his head at Lance as he held the door open for him and Hunk.

“We’re not, like, dating or anything. We hang out. Mess around together.” Pidge glanced away, his cheeks going a little pink. “But she’s cool. Really cool. This doesn’t bother me – it’s a job, just like any other.”

“You’re a better man than I,” Lance said, headed to the ticket window to pay entry.

He forked over his cash with the rest of the guys and followed Pidge’s lead toward the main entrance. Two huge, muscular dudes in sharp black suits greeted them like they were gentleman and not titty-ogling creepers.  
Then the main doors opened, and waves of bass-thumping, hyped up EDM shot out like thunder and lightning, pulling them in to Galra’s depths.

The darkened venue was illuminated in shades of purple lighting. Shadows welcomed customers into the comfort of their corners and private seating. Black leather booths, chairs, tables and carpet kept the environment deep and mysterious, like a mystical purple fog had descended upon this secret arena of sin. The air of the place was intoxicating. Not seedy or dirty. Just, well, it made you feel like you were in space, where Earth’s rules no longer counted for shit.

Upbeat, bumping electronic rhythms hummed their way into Lance’s blood as the three of them weaved their way through the sizeable crowd of college bros, blue collar workers, and men in expensive suits.

Of course, none of them, including Lance, could look away from the multiple stages strategically placed at each end of the building, with a decadently large stage in the center, with three shining poles shooting straight to the ceiling.

The center stage was in use by three curvaceous women with not a bra or top in sight, just glittering G-strings that left nothing to the imagination for Lance. He grinned, already on cloud nine as his gaze trailed the dip and flow and arch of each fit body. These women must have been the best, because they could climb up those poles and hold themselves in unnaturally bent and arched positions while making it look like they were just rolling around decadent king-sized beds.

“When’s Nyma on?” Lance said, wanting to be as far away from that as possible. He didn’t care of Pidge said they weren’t together – that shit made him feel weird. If he ever wanted to look Nyma in the eye again, he wasn’t about to watch her nakedly hump a pole, okay?

“Dunno,” Pidge said, finding a small, high table and stools very near the center stage. “Soon. Want a drink?”

“Sure,” Lance said, unable to take his eyes from stage. He kinda wondered what they were thinking the whole time up there. Were they, like, writing tomorrow’s to-do list? _Laundry_ – flip upside down – _groceries_ – squat in front of this guy and shake ass – _and_ _don’t forget the milk!_ – profit on one and five dollar bills.

“I’m gonna –” Lance grinned as a woman walked by him with black hair and eyes, pale skin, petite and clad in black lingerie and corset. “ _Hey_ , the name’s Lance – _er_ –” He looked back to Pidge and grinned. “I’m gonna look around a sex – I mean, sec.”

“Y’know,” Hunk said, patting Lance on the head. “I worry about you sometimes, man. Like, who _did_ drop you on your head as a child?”

“Probably one of my older siblings. Or all of them. Hey, you live with what you got.”

Lance aimed finger guns their way as he backed up, turning around only after they’d both looked away and pretended not to know him. Laughing to himself, he slipped between all walks of male life, plus the occasional scantily clad woman – and a very few stripper men, surprisingly.

The far end of the establishment had a single pole, just as Lance had noticed that the opposite end had one. Lance wondered if this was for the less talented dancers or for the things that simply didn’t belong center stage. He decided he’d wait and find out.

“Need a drink, handsome?”

Lance blinked and looked over to find himself staring at a working man. He was clad only in short, tight white boxers that left very little to the imagination. He was kind of classically handsome, but nothing that personally struck Lance as his type. Lance smiled.

“Hey. Sure, thanks. Jack n’ Coke? A lot of Jack.”

“Who doesn’t love a good amount of Jack?” the guy said with a wink as he disappeared back into the crowd.

“Wow, okay.” Lance took a deep breath and released. “Wow.”

That was the first time he’d even been approached by a man in a place like this. Although now that he looked around at this one empty pole, where both men and a considerable amount of women sat and waited with hungry eyes, Lance wondered just who was coming on stage.

It wasn’t long before the stage lit up in a faint red light and Lance noticed everyone lean in, just a little.  The music seemed to get just a bit louder over here, wordless music with faster pace than those slow, sensual pieces many women danced to. This buzzed with excitement, a hum of shivering beats, like a heart hammering faster and faster with excitement.

And then a man walked out, coated in purple shimmering dust or glitter, the glint of it even shining through his thick black hair. His tight boxers were bright, alluring red and his bulge was, uh, something to behold in there.

He looked at no one in the crowd, his mouth a sober, full pink as he approached the pole, put one hand out to grab it, and lofted himself into the air. Immediately, he flipped upside down, one thigh wrapped around the pole, abs straining and disheveled hair falling away from his face.

He looked out into the crowd with hooded eyes –

And it was –

“ _Keith_.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening to saucers as he ravaged Keith’s face and figure with his gawking stare. His brain had exploded into stars and sucked itself into a black hole, unable to process anything but shock and lust as he watched Keith slide down the pole slowly, tumble out into a hand stand, and come back to his feet. He looked over his shoulder then, at the men in the audience, and fucking _winked_.

Lance couldn’t breathe. Not metaphorically. He literally stopped breathing. He could feel his lungs burning as he watched Keith wrap both hands high up the pole and begin to leisurely pull himself up, up, _up_ to the fucking _ceiling_.

Grinning, Keith held onto the pole with one arm, a single muscled leg wrapped around as well, and slid down, his body spinning slowly around and around, his entire body glittering like some enchanted space being made for Lance’s pleasure only.

_Holy_ shit. Holy moly. _Holy_ – who the hell should Lance be praying to and thanking for this?

“You like Big Red,” said the male stripper from before, startling Lance from his heart eyes and distractingly tightening jeans. Lance looked over just as the guy put the drink in his hand. He was smiling brightly. “Everyone does.”

“B-Big Red?” Lance managed, deciding then to take a very long drink from his glass. He downed half of it in one go as the stripper spoke.

“Well, _you_ know. You can see it for yourself.”

Lance allowed himself to glance over to the stage, where Keith was basically humping the pole five feet above everyone’s head. And yeah, the boxers made it pretty clear where the name came from. Lance coughed and choked into his drink, his eyes watering.

“Y-yeah.”

“Do you want me to set you up a tab?”

Lance looked into his drink and grimly finished off the last of it, then handed the empty off.

“Yeah. Keep ‘em coming. I’ll be right, uh, here.”

_Questioning my entire life and how I ended up here._

Lance didn’t know if the stripper said anything else, because Lance had walked away, straight up to the edge of the stage and looked up in a mix of shock and awe.

Keith was, all things set aside, magnificent. His tight muscles flexed as he performed inexplicable tricks on the pole, his body gleaming with that signature purple of Galra, his sweat-damp black hair curling around his unnaturally flirtatious face. And still, he made it look easy – like he _wanted_ to be here.

Lance could not, on any level, imagine that were the truth.

It didn’t stop his dick from doing way inappropriate things in his pants.

Keith lofted off of the pole, the song switching to something bass-heavy, deep, like damp summer sex. He approached the edge of the stage, his body surging and moving, thrusting towards outstretched hands that dipped not ones, but tens and twenties into his waist band, and even up the leg of his boxers, right to his crotch.

As if under a spell, Lance lethargically grabbed a bill from his wallet and held it up. He could tell Keith wasn’t looking at anyone’s face, just blindly scanning the crowd with a sharp, feline smile. He was on his knees now, his hips rolling sensuously in the crowds face – namely, Lance’s face.

Lance reached out, his fingers skimming Keith’s hard, flexing abs, slipped that bill into his hot waistband – and Keith looked right at him.

For only a frozen moment in time, Keith’s eyes widened and he completely stopped moving. Just a half-second, nothing noticeable to anyone but Lance and Keith.

“Keith,” was all Lance said, softly. And though he knew his voice would go totally unheard over the thunder of music, he watched Keith look at his lips move, and his eyes darken in reply.

All too quickly he was back on his feet, moving to a new piece of the stage, working a new batch of hungry customers.

And all Lance could do was wait it out. Wait it out, with lust clinging to him like a humid, clammy fist around his throat.

An eternity later, the second song ended, and Keith was descending the side stairs that dropped down from the stage.

Lance shoved his way through the crowd.

 “ _Keith_ ,” Lance said, following his glittering back as he slipped through the crowd with more practiced ease than Lance possessed. “Keith!”

Keith whirled, his eyes depthless in the shadows, his chest heaving and shimmering with every breath. His hands were balled at his sides.

“Shut _up_ , idiot! That’s not my name here.”

Lance’s eyes widened as his attention wandered down briefly to the considerable bulge pressed against Keith’s sinfully red, tight boxers.

“Dude. I am _never_ calling you Big Red.”

At that, Keith’s cheeks darkened and he spun on his heel, heading quickly away.

Lance dove forward and grabbed Keith’s muscled bicep.

“Hey! I need to talk –”

Keith shoved Lance’s hand away, his eyes glinting dangerously. He opened his mouth to speak –

But a huge figured had stepped in, and loomed over the both of them.

Lance froze and slowly gaped up.

“You causing problems, Red?” the big man asked in a resonant, dark voice. His skin was unnaturally ashen, his eyes matching in paleness. Black hair slicked back in an old style, as pitch dark as the suit he wore. Deep lines cut across his face, wrinkles of time that had dug in deep. Only his tie held color, and it was, of course, purple. The same shade as the lighting and glitter covering Keith’s tensed body.

“Sendak,” Keith said quickly, his eyes lowering. “No, no problems. This guy was just, uh –”

“Looking for a dance,” Lance said quickly, aiming a wobbly smile at this terrifying Sendak guy. “I got a little too, uh, excited, I guess. Sorry.”

If that was how Lance could get Keith alone to talk, that’s how it was going to go down.

Not, uh, literally, of course.

Lance was obviously not expecting a dance of any kind. But _damn_ if he’d wait around for answers until who knew how late into the night.

Sendak smiled some kind of joker’s grin that gave Lance the chills.

“Not a problem, sir. Red would be more than happy to acquiesce. This is what he’s here for. _Right_ , Red?”

Pale eyes fixed on Keith like twin swords, sharp and ruthless. Lance didn’t have to take a wild guess to know that this guy was the Big Boss Man.

And Keith looked a little afraid of him.

Lance didn’t like that one bit. He gritted his teeth in a tight smile and glanced at Keith briefly.

“Of course,” Keith said easily, his expression morphing into a flirtatious smile as he linked his arm in Lance’s and leaned his body against his. “It’s my pleasure. He’s a cute one, too.”

Sendak gave the two of them one final, lingering look before nodding and disappearing into the crowd.

“ _Duuude_ ,” Lance said, overly conscious of Keith clinging to his arm like some attention-starved girlfriend. “What the hell is going _on_? Did I step into some alternate dimension? Is this an episode of Star Trek? You don’t have an evil goatee.”

Keith’s arm tightened to a death grip as he led Lance through the thickening crowd, his face a mask of pleasantry despite the acid in his voice.

“You shut the fuck up before I accidentally knee your fucking balls back up into you during your goddamn _lapdance_.”

He spat the final word like he was disgusted by the very thought of performing such an act upon Lance.

“Well _excuse_ me for being just the tiniest bit surprised to arrive here with the expectation of perving on titties and encountering _your_ glittering purple ass instead.”

“That’s the one place that _isn’t_ covered in glitter,” Keith said, seemingly mostly to himself.

He dragged Lance through a pitch black alcove at the far end of the building, an entryway that had no sign, but another extremely large, intimidating man in a suit guarding it. Lance boggled at the monster as they passed through.

“Well, at least you’re safe here.”

“Shut up,” Keith said, now leading him by the hand, their fingers linked intimately. Lance wondered, only briefly, if they were still being watching in this dark tunnel and if this intimacy was still part of the act.

Purple light shone at the end of the passageway, and they emerged into the strangest room Lance had ever seen.

He’d been to his share of strip clubs, but had never dished out for a lap dance. Let alone one in a private area.

If ‘private’ was the word to use.

The room was large, and shaped like a horseshoe, a very large U with every wall lined in one, vastly long, continuous black, leather booth seat. Deep and lush and inviting a person to just sink back into it, and let whomever was on top of them go to town.

And that’s exactly what was happening – everywhere.

Predominantly men – and one woman – lined the seats, all a respectful six or more feet apart from each other. Fully naked strippers – every single one was completely butt naked – rubbed and grinded their way to the music, sensually writhing, small smiles on their faces, their eyelids heavy and lowered, seemingly intoxicated or drugged as their customers ran their hands down the lengths of their smooth bodies.

“Stop gawking,” Keith said quietly, his voice a steel trap and his grey eyes just as murderous as he slowly slid the length of his body against Lance’s. His arms linked casually around Lance’s shoulders as he leaned in close, his face raised to look up at Lance. “This room is crawling with cameras. Sendak records this shit. Sells the real good dances online. Plus, the guards.  You either gotta make this look believable or someone will think I’m not doing my job properly.”

Keith yanked Lance in close, their noses brushing, Lance’s pulse fluttering as Keith looked down at his mouth.

“So look like you fucking enjoy it,” Keith said roughly.

With that, Keith reversed Lance until his calves hit the booth and he fell back. Keith mounted Lance’s lap in one lithe motion that had Lance nearly swallowing his tongue.

“ _Oh_ – uh – er. I’ll try?”

“Goodie,” Keith said dryly, his hands sliding from Lance’s shoulders to rest, fingers spread on his chest for balance.

Keith was fully sitting on Lance’s lap, his unbelievably tight ass all hot and firm on Lance’s thighs, while he slowly shifted his hips to the languid, deep bass of the music. Keith’s eyelashes were lowered, pitch black crescent moons that hid what was going on behind that fierce gaze of his. He leaned in, smelling of his own light musk and someone else’s cologne.

The scent drove Lance to dig his fingers into Keith’s bare, firm thighs, as he imagined tearing a strange man off of Keith and beating him senseless.

“The rules are,” Keith whispered into Lance’s ear, suddenly way too close with that sinfully soft mouth of his. “No touching anything I’d use to fuck you with. Got it?”

Lance felt his entire body go furiously hot. He managed a short nod, his nose tickled by a curl of Keith’s thick hair.

“Pretty sure.”

“Otherwise, hands are allowed,” Keith said, a little breathless against Lance’s cheek. “ _Everywhere_ else.”

Keith sounded a little winded, but as he was currently riding Lance’s lap, hips undulating in fluid shifts and sways, he was probably working hard to keep himself from toppling off of Lance.

Instinctively, Lance spread his fingers, his wide palms sliding up and over Keith’s hips and finding smooth, muscled purchase at his slim waist.

Lance was so overwhelmed by the seemingly endless, pale plains of glimmering lavender skin that he simply couldn’t touch. He had already short circuited. Probably from the moment he’d watched Keith slide down a pole, upside down, using his thighs as grip alone.

With his face burning up and his body coiled like a spring at the verge of snapping, Lance swallowed thickly and trained his attention from Keith’s writhing body to his face.

Big mistake.

Keith met Lance’s gaze with his own piercing, almost predatory one. At the same time, he scooted back, slid from Lance’s lap and dropped to his knees between Lance’s now spread thighs.

With his chin tilted to keep eye contact, Keith’s lips parted, dark pink tongue peeking out to swipe at his bottom lip. His slender hands stroked the length of Lance’s inner thighs, from knee to crotch, stopping just short of Lance’s tightening jeans.

Lance remained utterly speechless. He didn’t – he _couldn’t_ – how could _anyone_ function when Keith looked at him like a deadly wildcat waiting to pounce, playing with his prey.

Was this his act for the cameras and guards every time? Lance had never pegged Keith for the acting sort. Then again, he’d never pegged him the stripping, lap-dancing type, either.

Weren’t they supposed to be talking about this right now? Getting answers?

Lance’s vision hazed over, his heart thundering against his ribs while Keith rose to his feet in a seamless motion, turned around, and sat that fucking perfect ass right on Lance’s lap.

Oh. Oh, _fuck_.

Lance stiffened instinctively, knowing full well there could be no way Keith was missing the hardening length he’d just placed his sinful ass upon. Lance couldn’t even remember to have the decency to be embarrassed at this point. Hell, he could barely recall where he was or his own last name. He certainly couldn’t remember what they were supposed to be talking about.

Not when Keith was lounging against him now, his back and shoulders pressed warmly against Lance’s chest. Keith tilted his head back, rested it on Lance’s shoulder in what could have almost been quietly intimate were it not for his hips grinding back against Lance’s fully attentive dick.

Then Keith turned his head, his lips brushing Lance’s burning hot ear. His voice was low and smooth, hushed beneath the slinky, sexy beats of music that enveloped them.

“Think this is the longest you’ve ever shut up.”

Lance shivered – physically shivered down to his toes in a way he knew Keith would notice.

Before he could think, his large hands came up to cup Keith’s hip bones, his thumbs brushing lengths against the twin dips of Keith’s pelvis.   
It was Keith’s turn to shudder, and _that_ was the best feeling of them all.

“Keith,” Lance said, his voice choked off, his mind starting and stuttering and struggling to keep up with everything happening.

“ _Hmmm_ ,” was all Keith said, his lips still against Lance’s ear.

“What are you –” Lance hissed softly as Keith rolled his body back against Lance’s. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“What’s wrong with this?” Keith said, his voice velvet as he ground himself back, his hips rolling circles against Lance’s crotch in ways that had to be illegal in some state or other.

Lance’s mind tripped and fell on its face, because yeah, right now this didn’t seem wrong _at all_. But still.

Gripping Keith’s waist tightly, Lance held Keith up and away from his throbbing dick, his ass a safe few inches away.

“I can’t think of anything at the moment, but it’ll come back to me.”

Keith just agilely flipped position, turning to straddle both Lance’s thighs, his knees on either side of Lance. Soft hands rested on Lance’s shoulders, squeezing firmly, sending waves of drugging relief down Lance’s back.

“Gotta pay the bills,” Keith said softly, staring at Lance’s lips with shadowy eyes. He tossed his head a little, the bangs which had curled into his eyes and caught on his eyelashes sweeping aside.

Lance just stared, dumbfounded.

“Can’t you get out of here?”

Keith inclined his chin, his hands travelling up the length of his own body, hands diving into his hair as he worked his body in limber, catlike movements upon Lance’s lap.

“Maybe I can’t,” he said so quietly, Lance was unsure he’d even heard it.

And then Keith was sliding from Lance’s lap and to his feet, his eyes locked on Lance’s, his mouth a sober line as he held out a hand to help Lance up.

Bewildered and about a trillion times more horny than he could ever remember being, Lance took Keith’s hand – ignoring the electricity that shot up his arm – and allowed himself to be led from the strange room that he knew would become a part of his fevered fantasies forever.

In the dark, unlit tunnel, Keith turned, his hand gripping Lance’s wrist tightly as he leaned in close. A chill ran up Lance’s spine as he leaned in blindly, his lips parting –

“Don’t come back here again,” Keith said, his tone hard as nails. He squeezed Lance’s wrist once – Lance couldn’t tell if it was with threat or in comfort – and released him.

Turning on his heel just as quickly, he made his way for the exit, where the purple glow cast its spell on this strange place.

“H-hey!” Lance ran after him, “Wait – I’m just as confused as ever!”

“Like that’s anything new for you.” Keith’s form was outlined in the entryway, slim and solid and stiff with stress. Though Lance couldn’t make out his features, he knew they were trained on him. “Go home, Lance. You don’t wanna get mixed up in this place.”

Befuddled, Lance just nodded silently, even as his mind boiled over with dozens of questions and come backs. They could wait – barely. At least until Lance’s dick calmed the fuck down and he got drunk enough to pretend like none of this really mattered.

Unfortunately, Lance realized just minutes later, his _friends_ – if _that’s_ what you could call them – were his only ride home, and they had no intention of making this an early night.

“Now that I’m here,” Hunk had said, by way of lousy excuse, “I might as well enjoy my descending elevator into the pits of hell.”

“That’s the spirit,” Pidge had said, taking a shot, and ordering three more for them.

So Lance stayed and drank, wedged between Hunk and Pidge while the two of them fed dollar bills to sexy ladies like they were going to pay their childrens’ college tuition in singles.

Not that Lance didn’t enjoy the scenery – he wasn’t blind, dammit. But he had real shit on his mind.

Namely, why it bothered him in the first place that Keith was even doing this. He wasn’t harming anyone and he wasn’t being harmed. However, the latter half of the statement rang false to Lance’s intuition. There was something about Keith’s level of secrecy, and the way that man Sendak had spoken to him – plus the fact that Cary had worked here… It was all just weird.

Weird on a level that was above Lance’s comprehension. He didn’t have a clue how to fit the puzzle pieces together. If there even _was_ a puzzle.

At least the drink after drink after drink finally poisoned his bloodstream, and Lance let himself ride that wave of Jack Daniels and lord knew what else. What the hell did he care what Keith did? Stupid sexy Keith and his stupid butt and his stupid red underwear. And the glitter! Who wore glitter like that? _Illegal_.

“What the hell are you muttering Keith’s name under your breath?” Pidge yelled into Lance’s ear over the music.

“I’m not!” Lance gave Pidge the stink eye. “Why would I be? Why are _you_ saying his name?”

Pidge rolled his eyes.

“I just thought maybe you saw him tonight. I haven’t spotted him. But then again, I haven’t been looking.”

Lance’s jaw dropped to the floor. He leaned in to Pidge so suddenly he fell right into him, leaving Pidge sputtering and pushing him back onto his chair while Lance stumbled over the human language – which he _thought_ he’d memorized by now.

“You – _what_? You knew? You _knew_ he worked here all this time and you didn’t tell me?”

“ _What_? You’re the closest to him out of all of us! Why _wouldn’t_ you know? I didn’t think it was important because I didn’t think I had anyone left to tell! Nyma straight up said the two of them worked together.”

“Well, I didn’t!” Lance nearly shrieked, his stare going wild-eyed as he looked around, both hoping and dreading catching sight of that perfectly purpled, sparkly body. “And you didn’t tell me! And I had to find out by watching him, uh, like, perform really awful things on a defenseless stripper pole!”

Pidge pointedly turned in his seat to face the stage again, aiming a knowing, sidelong glance Lance’s way that always infuriated him.

“ _What_ ,” Lance snapped, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“Nothiiing,” Pidge said, his eyebrows raising and his lips twitching. “I got it now.”

“Got _what_? What do you th – whatever you think is – I don’t even –”

“If you’ve got a problem with Keith working here –”

“I don’t!”

“Then that says a lot more about _you_ than it does him.”

With that, Pidge turned away and promptly ignored Lance’s gawking expression.

Sliding from his seat on unsteady legs, Lance wavered in place and glared at Pidge.

“I’m going outside.”

Pidge didn’t glance at him, but unearthed the car keys from his pocket and tossed them against Lance’s chest. They fell to the floor and Lance scrambled to pick them up with tingly fingers.

“Sleep off your tizzy,” Pidge said, his shoulders moving as he chuckled soundlessly.

“ _Tizzy_? Why I – _ugh_.”

Lance turned and stumbled his way from Galra. He was more than happy to be out of there, he thought, as the cool evening air hit his face. His strides ate up the ground as he made his way through the parking lot and to Pidge’s car.

He didn’t bother to unlock it yet, just laid himself on the hood, folded his arms beneath his head and looked to the stars. His vision wavered, and probably saw more stars than were actually there, but he was okay with that for now.

Man, he really needed to get a grip. Tonight was too much to process. His brain only had so much room for the complex. He was a simple guy who liked a simple life. He wanted to laugh, have fun, love and be loved, make his family proud, and go to bed at night with nothing on his mind. _Apparently_ that was way too much shit to ask for.

“You’re _still_ here?”

Lance sat up so quickly that he rolled off the car and landed face first on the pavement.

“ _Ugh_.” Lance looked up from the ground to glare at Keith. “I think you just made me eat glass, dude!”

“I’m pretty sure you deserve more than that. _Dude_.”

Keith was dressed like a normal human being rather than an incubus of Lance’s own personal demise. With a backpack over his shoulder and his hair ineptly pulled back into that stubby ponytail, he cocked his head as he stared down at Lance with damning eyes. It was almost as if Lance had never seen a softness or lust there in the first place.

Lance got to his feet, slowly, wobbling just a little as the world threatened to turn him upside down. Maybe it already had.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, okay? Pidge made us come.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you came kicking and screaming.”

Since Lance didn’t have a comeback to that one, he merely aimed a narrow glare Keith’s way and lofted himself back up onto the hood of the car. He stretched his legs out and resumed his relaxed position, facing the stars.

“You want something?” Lance asked, going for casual, not looking at Keith.

“I –” Keith paused, shifting from one foot to the other, his arms folded over his chest as he huffed out a long breath through his nose. He considered Lance silently for a moment. “I don’t know. This is weird.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“It’s not like I’m ashamed or anything.”

“Hey, I don’t care, man. You do you.” Lance braved a look Keith’s way. They looked at each other warily. “Wanna chill with me and get a ride home instead of the bus?”

Keith rubbed his hands over his upper arms, almost like a self-hug.

“Uh, I guess? Sure.”

Lance shifted over to make room for Keith, but their hips and shoulders still brushed with their proximity once they were both comfortably stretched out.

They were silent for a while, both staring at the stars, thinking whatever they were thinking.

Lance was certainly doing his best to ban the image of Keith grinding down on his lap, and the feel of his lips brushing Lance’s ear. The way his hair smelled. The length of his pale fingers. He was trying to think of anything but – so, of course, it was all he could think about.

To Lance’s utter mute shock, it was Keith who bumped Lance’s foot with his own.

“Some night.”

Lance swallowed tightly, terrified to give anything away.

“Yup.”

Silence again, and Keith sighed impatiently.

“You’re freaked out.”

“Uh.” Freaked out was the absolute _last_ thing he felt right now. “No?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you’re not a very good judge of character, to be honest.”

“Well, you’re a pretty shitty character to judge in the first place. You’ve got a brain like a fishbowl and one single goldfish.”

Lance turned on his side, propping his head up with his palm as he pinned Keith with a critical stare.

“And _your_ brain is like a fucking jungle where everything from the dirt to the leaves to the animals want to viciously murder you if you take one step in.”

Keith rolled his head to the side, looking up at Lance with a dangerous squint.

“I’d rather be a tiger than a goldfish.”

Lance blinked and leaned in a little, their faces close, intimate in the quiet night beneath the stars.

“Are you scared of what I think about you now?”

Keith’s gaze flickered with panic, his lips parting, but no sound emerged.

“ _Scared_ ,” Lance said quietly, his head thundering like the music Keith had danced to, “is the _last_ thing I feel when I look at you… Keith.”

When Lance’s lips gently touched Keith’s, there was no resistance. Their mouths lingered warmly, almost childlike in the kiss, despite their past encounter.

“I _told_ you not to tell her!” Pidge’s voice resounded in the distance, cutting through the parking lot. Lance jumped away and to his feet with his own level of catlike agility. “ _Never_ tell your girl you’re going to the strip club, unless _she_ is into them, too. Have I taught you nothing?”

Keith had his feet on the ground in seconds too, standing on the opposite side of the car, the back of his hand rubbing against his mouth.

“I’m so stupid! Shay is gonna break up with me, I just know it. I’ll be alone forever, and I’ll just be that crazy old man who lives at the end of the road who, like, grows pot for a living and has twelve cats and lives off public aid, all because of this single moment of my life that I screwed up.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re gonna be a crazy old man one day because you’re _already_ fucking insane. Second –”

“Hey, dudes,” Lance said, with a flimsy and awkward wave. When did he ever wave?! “I got us a freeloader.”

Pidge immediately grinned, looking between the two of them.

“Cool. Let’s get home.”

“And never come back,” Lance said under his breath as he headed for the back seat.

Keith caught his eye over the top of the car before they got in, their gazes lingering.

As usual, Lance just couldn’t read what he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry about the month hiatus. Life and Whatnot. But it's back to our regularly scheduled update a week. No worries! Remember to kudos and comment! I so love to hear from you. On we go to the strip club!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a real gen’leman, y’know that?” Rolo said, grinning as he leaned his head against the passenger window.  
> “I’m pretty sure no one has ever thought that about me, ever. But thanks. It really means a lot from you. I’ll write it in my diary tonight.”  
> “I –”  
> “Don’t talk anymore, Rolo,” Lance said tightly, maneuvering the empty roads. “Just take a fucking nap or something.”

Lance didn’t know why or when he’d convinced himself – along with the majority of the male population – that men were somehow simpler than women. Because they weren’t.

Lance had been in three semi-serious relationships from high school up until now, all with women, and damn if they hadn’t been easier to figure out than the Rubik cube that was Keith. At the very least, they expressed their emotions – sometimes liberally, sometimes loudly, other times with tears. But at least they told Lance what was going on.

Keith was the goddamn Tinman waiting for his heart or some shit. Any time during the past week where they’d been alone and Lance had tried to knock on that chest, he heard only resounding, impenetrable metal.

What made it worse was that Keith was entirely civil and even friendly with him. Not chatty, but nice enough. Like something had shifted, and that Keith had decided to give way a little bit.

Lance supposed he was acting more like one of the group, one of the guys. Like a friend.

Which would be fucking awesome if Lance weren’t so obsessed with the idea of having Keith in and around his body, like ASAP.

Which was _entirely_ Keith’s fault, by the way, for being so – so –

Lance’s cellphone buzzed on the kitchen table, where he had textbooks spread out and had been pretending to jot notes while he weirdly fixated on someone who probably only thought of him as a nuisance.

Sliding open the screen, Lance’s frown shifted to surprise when he saw that _Rolo_ , of all people, was texting him. Lance hadn’t even given him his number. That was probably Nyma’s doing.

_Party 2nite at mine, 11pm. Just bring ur sexy self ;)_

Lance winced at the text and delicately set the phone on the table, like the phone itself had already caught an STD from the text.

Then again, what better did Lance have to do on a Saturday night? He was going to stay in and work on an upcoming report, but Lance also knew he would be sitting and waiting for Keith to come home from Galra.

And why? Just to follow Keith around like his pet dog? Lance had a little more pride than that.

He was pretty sure he did, anyway.

So, why sit around?

“Forget about that guy,” Lance said to himself as he scraped his chair back and stood victoriously.

_Well, at least for the night._

Lance headed upstairs, strolling merrily down the hallway and headed to Pidge’s room.

He found Pidge on the floor, surrounded by electronic parts that Lance couldn’t recognize or name if there had been a gun to his head. Pidge’s forehead was wrinkled, his eyes narrowed as he turned some hard-drive looking piece in his hand.

“Wanna go out with me tonight?” Lance said, leaning in the doorway. “You look boring.”

“I’m not bored,” Pidge mumbled, without looking up.

“Not bored, _boring_ ,” Lance said with a grin.

“I’m busy,” Pidge said. “Where’re you going?”

“Rolo’s place, I guess.” Lance said, then blinked into the distance. “Actually, I don’t know where he lives.”

“He and Nyma live together. I’ll text you the address.”

“They live together?”  
  
“Yeah.” Pidge looked up and smiled at Lance, but it was a freaky psycho smile he sometimes had. “You and _Rolo_ , huh?”

“What? No! I mean, he wants to – I guess? I don’t – I don’t know.”

“You’re useless at this stuff. How are you and Hunk _so_ useless?”

Lance made a sour face.

“Hey, I haven’t exactly heard the best reviews of him.”

“Neither have I, to be honest,” Pidge said, shrugging his shoulders and returning to his metallic mayhem.

“Yeah? What’ve you heard?” Lance said, cocking his head.

“I dunno. I guess he sleeps with the customers and stuff.”

“What d’you mean – where?”

“Galra. I thought you knew.”

Lance dragged a hand down his face and groaned.

“What the actual _fuck_ , dude? Who _doesn’t_ work there?”

“Hey, it’s a lucrative profession for a college kid,” Pidge said, turning a small piece of something in his hand and actually throwing it across the room into a corner pile of similarly looking things.

“Yeah, it’s also a profession where someone went missing.”

“True facts. Don’t get yourself snatched up.”

“No one could snatch me. I’m a fucking ninja.”

Pidge shook his head and chuckled.

“Uh huh. Have fun. I’m pretty sure Nyma will be there, too.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go, then?”

“As sad as I’ll be to miss out on you tripping over yourself for a guy like Rolo, I have to pass. Got shit to do.”

Lance waved him off and turned to head from the room.

“Alright, alright. Make me go alone. I’ll find some new friends.”

“You always do,” Pidge said with laugh in the distance.

***

Lance found himself standing in shady part of town, in front of a locked apartment entryway, with no idea what Rolo and Nyma’s last name was. He stared at the buzzer buttons, the scrawled last names, and cursed Pidge for not remembering to give him the apartment number. The guy could build a fucking computer, but he couldn’t remember to give a complete address.

Pulling out his phone, Lance leaned against the door and texted Rolo, telling him he was outside.

He waited no more than a minute before the front door was opening, framing tall, tan, handsome Rolo and his lazy smile.

“Uh,” Lance said with an uneasy grin, “You could have just buzzed me in.”

“Coulda,” Rolo said, still smiling as he held the door open for Lance like a fucking gentleman. Lance couldn’t remember _anyone_ pursuing him _ever_. “How’s it goin’, man?”

“It goes good,” Lance said, following Rolo through poorly lit hallway and up some dirty stairs. “Thanks for inviting me. I needed to get out, bad.”

“I feel you. Gotta get loose every once in a while, right?”  
  
“Something like that,” Lance said with an easier, more relaxed smile. He watched Rolo open the front door, felt his shoulders indeed loosen up as a wash of music flooded the hall and welcomed him in.

Okay, a skunky cloud of bud _also_ descended over him, but Lance had only needed to look at Rolo once to know what the guy was about.

Lance followed Rolo in and was greeted by a group of boisterous and friendly hellos from tons of people he didn’t know. There had to have been around thirty people crowded into this tiny, ratty apartment.

The lighting was warm and golden, several walls covered with psychedelic tapestries, and a heady incense stick smoking languidly on the kitchen counter.

Some people lounged on the mismatched couches, many sat on the floor of the living room, while others stood in and spilled out of the tiny kitchen like sardines from a can.

Lance immediately recognized the handsome stripper from the Galra and a lady stripper whose face he vaguely recognized, as well. Unfortunately, he’d probably recognize her ass quicker.

He did, however, recognize Nyma’s laugh from the one and only bedroom, which had no door on it, just those weird bead curtains that Lance thought had finally died during the age of inflatable furniture and see-through, plastic backpacks. Oh well.

A large, confident hand slid around Lance’s waist and rested at the small of his back. Lance blinked up at Rolo’s easy smile and found himself a little charmed.

“What can I get you to drink.”

Lance matched Rolo’s smile, feeling a little buzzed off the attention.

“Surprise me.”

Rolo’s hand squeezed Lance’s hip very briefly, their gazes lingering with a friendly, easygoing attraction, before he released Lanced and made his way to the kitchen. Lance admired Rolo as he left. The big, fumbling oaf types weren’t really his thing – he liked sharp, quick, and clever guys with eyes that could flay you open – but hey, at least Rolo was nice to him.

Lance brought his attention to the main crowd of the living room and grinned with ease, waving at them in greeting as he approached. Groups didn’t intimidate him – never had. Public speaking? No problem. Making people laugh? Even better.

This was Lance’s element. This simple ebb and flow of socialization, the drowning in the new and unexpected.

Lance sat himself on the arm of a couch, just as the handsome stripper from that night at Galra gasped, snapped his fingers, and pointed at him from across the room.

“You – I remember you now! You visited a week ago or something. Can’t forget a face like that.”

“It’s my cross to bear,” Lance said with a smirk and a shrug. “The name’s Lance.”

“Lance,” the man said, considering him with pale, amber eyes that edged on gold. They reminded Lance less of cat’s eyes, and more like a lion. They were trained on him with enough intensity that Lance mentally envisioned himself squirming. Then the guy smiled widely, the concentration fading, and said, “Hey. I’m Zee. Cool to meet you.”

“You too, man,” Lance said, happy that people seemed friendly here.

Zee especially stood out among them all. His hair was a bright, natural, cherry red. None of that orangey-ginger. He was _red_ , his skin nearing on white, his eyes almost intimidating in their color. Even folded up on the floor and hunched over his crisscrossed legs, Lance could tell that he was extremely tall – something he hadn’t noticed the first time, because he’d been distracted by Big fucking Red.

“How do you know Rolo?” Zee asked, cocking his head a little. He glanced to the side and waved off a girl who offered him a half-smoked blunt. “Please don’t tell me you ended up with _him_ that night. You can do better.”

“Ended up with...” Lance said, his brow furrowing. Then his eyes widened and he laughed, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh, no way, man! Not at all. Keith – uh, y’know, Big Red – he’s uh, he’s one of my roommates.”

“Roommate?” Zee said, frowning as he scrutinized Lance with that yellow gaze. “I thought he lived in the dorms?”

“I mean, he moved in with me and my friends a couple of months ago,” Lance said with a shrug.

Rolo arrived in that moment, tapping Lance’s shoulder with a red Solo cup. Lance skimmed him over with a distracted smile, took the cup, and drank. He held back a wince, because _damn_ if Rolo didn’t make drinks strong enough to tranquilize an elephant.

“He did?” Zee said, scratching his jaw, his gaze lowering as if he were considering that new piece of information.

“I mean, it sucked for him living in the dorms still. Who still does that, y’know?” Lance said, taking a good long drink from his cup. “I felt bad for him. I nagged him ‘til he gave in, basically. He was pretty against it, but if you know Keith, you know how he is.”

“Oh, I do,” Zee said with his lips curving as he looked up and met Lance’s eyes. “Totally do. He’s stubborn.”

“That’s one way of saying it,” Lance said with a chuckle, drinking again. He could feel that alcohol loosen him limbs gloriously. “We like him there, though. He’s a good guy.”  
“You’re close,” Zee said simply.

Lance frowned into his drink, his eyebrows lowering.

“The four of us are friends, yeah.”

“I’m surprised he’s never mentioned you,” Zee said, looking Lance from toes to head.

At that, Lance laughed and instinctively tilted his body to lean against Rolo’s for comfort.

“ _Really_? I’m not!”

“Maybe Keith –”

“Honestly, dude?” Lance said, pausing to take a big-ass gulp from his Solo. “I came here to _not_ think about shit like Keith, okay? Let’s party!”

There was a cheer about the room, from those who had been conversing among each other in the background, and Lance cheered along with him. If there was one thing he could do, it was make a party happen. And these people needed him.

The music was pumped up, the alcohol flowed, and so did Lance – in and out of conversation, dancing with strangers, but mainly Rolo, and avoiding that Zee guy, his curious eyes, and even more curious questions.

It was hours in and Lance’s head was swimming, his laughter reoccurring like waves, his body warm and pliable against Rolo’s as they danced and held each other too close. Rolo brought his mouth to Lance’s ear, his arms around Lance’s waist.

“I need a little pick me up. Come with?”

“Sure,” Lance said, smiling, even when he had no idea what Rolo was talking about.

Rolo held Lance’s hand, and his big paw felt hot and sweaty and not at all like Keith’s smooth, dry, capable ones as Rolo led him towards the bedroom. It was as they entered that Lance vaguely recalled that he’d never seen Nyma all night, even though he was sure he’d heard her in here at the beginning of the night.

That’s when they walked in, and Lance found himself stared at Nyma laying prone on the bed, stripped to lingerie, seemingly unconscious with cherry-red lips curved in repose. Her one hand was flung across the bed, a long strand of rubber tied tightly around her upper arm. Another girl was delicately sliding a needle into the crook of her own arm. Her eyes met Lance, but she clearly didn’t see him.

Lance froze in the doorway, Rolo continuing inward.

Watching in numb, mute horror, Lance remained in place as he watched Rolo open a drawer and come out with a little white baggie. Just as quickly as Lance had stilled, he felt his every limb flood with fury.

“What – the – _fuck_ , Rolo? What the fuck _is_ this?”

Rolo looked up with a puppydog frown of confusion.

“What, the smack? Don’t worry, man, it’s good shit. Zee gets it from Sendak, y’know?” He grinned, holding up the baggie. “It’s like, our bonus. Everybody gets some.”

Lance didn’t even know what to say. He’d never been faced with anything like this.

“Every…body. Like, who work at Galra?”

“Pretty much,” Rolo said with a shrug. “Nyma wasn’t into it at the start. She got convinced to try it, though. Everyone gets in on it eventually. And like,” Rolo looked up with a wide smile. “Why the hell not?”

“I –” Lance shook his head, totally unable to fathom what he was hearing. Certainly not in the fucked-up state he was in. “I gotta go –”

Backing out of the room, Lance quickly found his jacket and struggled with the sleeves.

“Hey,” Zee said from behind Lance, putting a firm hand on his shoulder to turn him. “You okay, Lance?”

“ _Don’t_ –” Lance whipped around, eyes blazing as he slapped away Zee’s hand. “You fucking touch me, _bro_.”

Zee’s eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed to fiery slits, his lips thinning. Lance felt a true chill of fear cut down his spine.

Not that Lance really gave a fuck. Zee could try whatever shit he wanted. Lance could fight like hell – he was scrappy as fuck.

Lance scoffed at Zee, turned on his heel and made his way for the exit. He literally ran down the flights of stairs, bursting through the door, and into the chill of the night.

“Holy _fuuuck_ like _what_?” Lance yelled into the night, pocketing his hands, hunching his shoulders, and starting to speed-walk home. “Just – _what_?”

A night that had meant to be about forgetting Keith had ended up being _entirely_ about him. More than Lance could have even fathomed.

Surely, Keith knew about the heroin. It was out there in plain sight. Being treated like it was taking a shot of Fireball or something. How could Keith work like that – live with those conditions around him?

And what about Pidge? Did he know about Nyma? Were they open about that with each other? How would Lance tell him – or _was it_ his job to tell him?

“What the actual fuck is my life?” Lance said to the goddamn fire hydrant, because that thing was probably as knowledgeable as him at this point.

Just then, Lance heard a car come up the dead-quiet street. Immediately suspicious, he glared over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he saw Rolo behind the wheel of a wide, beige Oldsmobile.

Who the fuck still drove an Oldsmobile?

Grandparents and Rolo, apparently.

Rolo, who stopped in the middle of the street and hollered out the passenger window from his spot behind the wheel.

“Lance, dude! What’s up, man – you okay? Lemme drive you home.”

Lance approached the car and leaned into the window, glowering.

Rolo looked so fucking wrong, dude. Like, his eyes were glazed, his cheeks flushed, his smile all lopsided and his speech slurred.

“Why the fuck are you _driving_?” Lance screeched. “Do you have a death wish? I mean, holy _shit_ , man – how many brain cells do you have _left_? I was gonna give you the benefit of the doubt, but like, it’s gotta be monkeys playing ping pong up there at this point.”

“Uh,” Rolo said, a clueless little grin on his face as he tossed his head back and laughed. “Man, you crack me up.”

“I fucking live for it,” Lance said under his breath as he rounded the hood of the car and promptly yanked open the driver’s door. “Now get out. Get the fuck out and get in the passenger’s seat. I’ll drive myself home.”

Drunk driving or not, Lance couldn’t let _this_ marshmallow brain drive anywhere.

“Put on your seatbelt or I’ll duct tape you on the spot,” Lance said as Rolo obediently took orders, his fingers fiddling and fumbling with the simple contraption of the buckle.

“That’s hot,” Rolo mumbled.

“Literally the opposite of hot,” Lance said between his teeth. He sharply changed geared and concentrated on getting them home without anyone dying.

“You’re a real gen’leman, y’know that?” Rolo said, grinning as he leaned his head against the passenger window.

“I’m pretty sure no one has ever thought that about me, ever. But thanks. It really means a lot from you. I’ll write it in my diary tonight.”

“I –”

“Don’t talk anymore, Rolo,” Lance said tightly, maneuvering the empty roads. “Just take a fucking nap or something.”

It was only five minutes before Lance was turning onto his own familiar street and he was mentally thanking whomever he should be thanking.

“Y’know,” Rolo said with a lazy drawl, rolling his head to the side to gaze Lance’s profile, as they pulled into the driveway, “You’re, like, the hottest guy I’ve seen in forever. Not hot like magazine hot. Like, I can’t stop imagining your legs around me, hot.”

“Around your neck in a chokehold, _ooor_ …” Lance said with a tight, toothy smile as he parked the car.

Rolo laughed way too loudly at that and unbuckled his seatbelt. Lance immediately shot out a hand and slapped it on Rolo’s chest to keep him from moving.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door. _Seriously_. Don’t.”

How the hell do you get rid of the most chill motherfucker you’ve ever met when they’re even _more_ chilled out than they were before?

Rolo looked down at Lance’s hand, then over to Lance. A slow, languid smile crossed his face, his eyes utterly glazed over.

“Oh, I feel you, bro. I feel you.”  
  
Before Lance could ask him to please stop feeling feels, Rolo was diving from his seat, across the car. His hand reached out and expertly cupped the nape of Lance’s neck, pulling him in for a messy, lip-smashing kiss that Lance grappling for his own seatbelt buckle. He didn’t feel the least bit panicked, just fucking annoyed and more than done with this shitty night. Rolo tasted like Fritos, beer, and desperation and that was not a mix Lance was fond of.

“ _Dude_!” Lance unbuckled himself, folded on leg up and shot it out with enough force to launch Rolo clear across the car cabin, his large body colliding with the opposite door.

Rolo wheezed and clutched his stomach, clearly winded as he boggled at Lance with wide, unfocussed eyes.

Then Lance’s own world was turning upside down as his driver’s door was yanked open with vicious force. Lance promptly fell back, out, and landed his head on the driveway, his legs still in the car.

Blinking the stars from his eyes, Lance groggily blinked up at _Keith_.

Keith, whose face was obviously red, even in the darkness, and his expression utterly livid. If flames could shoot from his ears, they might as well have been.

Everything happened too fast for dazed Lance to properly process.

Keith dragging Lance out by his arms, then launching himself in the car. A fumble and tussle from inside the car, someone swearing loudly.

Lance sat up, leaning back on his hands, his head spinning as he watched Keith push into Rolo’s face. Their noses were nearly touching, Keith’s face twisted in a snarl, his lips curled back as he said something to Rolo that certainly couldn’t have been kind.

Rubbing the back of his head, Lance groaned and slowly unfolded his unruly limbs from the ground and got to his feet. He swayed once, noting the headache forming at the base of his skull.

“Keith,” Lance said, approaching the car. Keith was actually holding Rolo’s chin in his fingers tightly, jerking his face close as he finished saying what he had to say. “Hey, _Keith_. Come on, man. It’s fine. He’s so fucked up right now, anyway. Just leave him.”

“I _saw_ what he did,” Keith said now, loud enough for Lance to actually hear. But he released Rolo’s chin with a jerk and edged his way out of the car. He didn’t break eye contact with Rolo – Rolo, who just gaped, his entire face pink with what Lance assumed was terror and/or mortification.

Well, he kind of deserved it.

Finally, Keith stood behind Lance. And even though he was considerably shorter than Lance, his presence felt huge and overpowering to Lance.

“You,” Keith said, his voice iron as he glowered at a motionless Rolo, “Sleep it off. But I don’t expect to see your car here in the morning. Or _ever_.”

With that, he firmly gripped Lance’s wrist and dragged him towards the house. Lance stumbled in tow, struggling not to step on Keith’s heels with his considerably longer stride.

“Hold up – Keith, hold up!”

Keith didn’t reply. He barged into the house, the door nearly always unlocked anyway, and whirled on Lance. Fury had blackened his eyes.

“What the fuck were you _doing_ with him? I _told_ you about him – I literally straight up _told_ you! Are you _that_ fucking stupid or do you just love ignoring me?”

Lance gaped, then immediately scoffed and folded his arms across his chest.

“ _Me_ ignore? _Me_? Oh, _that’s_ a fucking laugh and a half, Keith. You’re the one –”

“Y’know what?” Keith said, dragging a hand through his hair and sending it into disarray. “It doesn’t even matter. I know what you were doing with him. Desperation doesn’t look good on you, Lance.”

“What do _you_ care?” Lance said, dropping his hands to his sides and invading Keith’s space, looming over him and leaning in with a narrowed gaze. “Why are _you_ so mad about this?”

“He _kissed_ you!” Keith said sharply. Immediately, his eyes widened and he sputtered, his cheeks going red. “I mean, he forced it on you! I saw it. That’s not cool, Lance, no matter how easygoing you might be.”

“I don’t even think he knew what he was doing, Keith!” Lance threw his hands in the air in exasperation and sighed at Keith’s stubbornly set jaw. “It doesn’t excuse anything. But, I mean –” Lance leaned in, his brows lowering in concern as he met Keith’s hard stare. “He was _fucked_ up. On, like, heroin. _Heroin_ , Keith.”

To that, Keith did not reply. His face dropped its obstinate, heated expression, his gaze flickering away from Lance’s in a way that Lance had begun to learn was a rare tell of his.

“Yeah,” Lance said with a humorless laugh. “They told me. Rolo did. About Sendak, about Zee.”  
  
“So?” Keith said, shrugging a shoulder as he turned around and walked away. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance said, doggedly following at Keith’s heels as they marched toward the kitchen. “You’re not on it too, are you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Keith said, not looking at Lance as he opened the freezer and took out an ice pack. “That’s stuff is for idiots. I’m no idiot.”

“Nyma’s not an idiot either.”

Keith turned and paused, staring pensively at the ice pack in his hand.

“No,” he said quietly. “She’s not an idiot. But she’s not as street smart as I am, either.” He held out the ice pack. “Here. For your head.”

Lance took it obediently and held it on the back of his head. He eyed Keith with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I know how to survive shit without getting myself into trouble. I know what I should keep my nose out of.” Keith rubbed his eyes with his palms, clearly exhausted now that his fury-fueled adrenaline was plummeting. “Most of those girls – they think they don’t have a choice in what goes on in that place. So they give up their ability to make a choice. And eventually, they’re so high all the time that they just don’t care to think about what they’ve lost.”

They both stood there in the center of the kitchen, four in the morning, eyeing each other, unsure of the next step as they ever were.

Lance swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t mellow the accusatory tone of his voice.

“How can you work in a place like that? Knowing what you know.”  
  
Keith’s gaze shifted to the side, away from Lance’s incriminating stare.

“I just – you wouldn’t understand. It’s – it’s out of my hands right now.”

Lance wanted to push for more. He felt like he’d spent the last month wishing for more. Every time Keith took a step forward, there were two more steps back. This was a dance with which Lance was not familiar.

“Well,” Lance paused, hissed a little as he pressed the ice pack harder to his head. “Just be careful, at least.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, looking away and wrapping his arms around himself in that unconscious move Lance was beginning to notice. “I will.”

In the following awkward silence, exhaustion began its heavy descent over Lance’s shoulders. He yawned, loud and obnoxious and not covering his mouth, waving Keith to follow him as he turned and made his way for the stairs.

“Fuckin’ exhausted,” Lance said as he held onto the rickety bannister and made his ascent.

“Sorry about your head,” Keith said from behind him, quietly. “You okay?”

“I just wanna go to bed,” Lance said, reaching the hallway, still holding the icepack to his head. His room was first and he turned abruptly, leaning back against his door as he eyed Keith. “Don’t you ever get exhausted? Having a life as complicated as yours. I’m just on the outskirts of it and I’m already tired. Don’t you want shit to be – I dunno, _simple_?”

Keith cocked his head, considering Lance’s face. He stood before Lance, close enough that their conversation felt intimate. Secret.

“I’ve never had it simple,” Keith said, his voice low, mesmerizing. “I don’t know anything else.”

Dizzy and drugged with fatigue, Lance casually reached out swiped his thumb across the remaining Galra shimmer that highlighted Keith’s cheekbone.

“That’s sad,” Lance said.

“Idiot,” Keith said, his eyes flashing, although he didn’t swipe Lance’s hand away.

“That why nothing’s simple between _us_?” Lance said, unable to keep his mouth from running away with itself.

Keith raised his eyebrows, his eyes like grey storm clouds in upheaval. He gave a short laugh and took a distancing step back, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing between us, Lance.”

“That right, Mullethead?” Lance said, his cocky armor forming in a smirk as he eyed Keith from toe to top. “Come over here and prove it.”

Keith’s lips curved sharply as he turned away and waved.

“Like I said,” he called over his shoulder, “Desperation doesn’t look good on you.”

“Good _niiight_ ,” Lance sing-songed down the hall. “Dream of me!”

Keith shut the door behind him, but Lance could still hear his laughter.

Smiling for a second to himself, Lance leaned against his closed door.

Then he slid to the floor with a thump and a frown.

What the hell was he going to do with this?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve never needed saving in my life,” Lance said with a toothy, cocky grin. “You just have a hero complex.”  
> “Hardly.”  
> “For me, you do.”  
> “That’s because you’re fucking useless and it gets on my nerves to watch you stumbling through life like you woke up and drank half a bottle of whiskey to start your day.”  
> “Hey, I’d rather that than wake up with _that_ hair and height, okay?”

Lance was not good at secrets. Deceptions, lies, white lies, black red or blue lies. Whatever, he wasn’t good at that shit. Lack of filter, plus general belief in the goodness of humanity led him to see no reason to hold back in life, let alone bullshit people around.

Which was what led Lance to corner Pidge first thing, bright and early the next morning.

Hunk was apparently at Shay’s place, because he was nowhere to be seen and his bed was unruffled from the night.

Both Lance and Pidge had realized early on that Hunk was one of those guys who essentially disappear into Girlfriend Land once he got one. Of course, it went without saying that Hunk and Shay were head over heels in gross, pure-white love, so neither guy could really hold it against him.

And Keith was already long gone, probably at The Lion.

Which left Lance fidgeting in his seat at the kitchen table, letting his coffee grow cold as Pidge mechanically ate his way through a sugar-laden bowl of cereal with the stilted movements of a person who was and would never be a morning person.  
  
“Pidge,” Lance said, his foot bouncing at hummingbird rate beneath the table. “Yo, Pidge.”

“ _Nnn_ ,” was Pidge’s reply, his eyelids still heavy as he glanced at Lance.

“I have to, uh – _hm_. I mean, well –”

“It’s like I can watch the very moment you lose brain cells,” Pidge said flatly, his voice monotone.  
  
“Bro!” Lance leaned in over the table, his voice conspiratorial. “This is, like, serious shit – okay?”

Pidge yawned and waved at Lance to continue on.

“’Kay. What is it?”

“It’s about Nyma. When I saw her at the party last night.”

At that, Pidge’s eyes cleared and his head rose with sharpened interest.

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, am I the only one who has walked in on her passed out on a bed after shooting heroin, because that was _not_ something I expected on my night out,” Lance blurted out with as much grace as a fucking elephant. “Neither was being grossly hit on by her equally, if not slightly less deliriously fucked-up brother, but that’s a story for another day.”

“What?” Pidge’s chair screeched back as he stood abruptly, his expression tight, his eyes wide. “What the fuck is that supposed to me?”

“I – well,” Lance said, his brow furrowing as he shrugged a little, “I mean, I didn’t know if you knew. That she was, y’know. Doing – that – er, _it_. Like, heroin.”

“How –” Pidge shook his head, his face screwed up in now obvious distress, his hazel eyes darkening with rare anger. “How the fuck did this all – Fuck, man. I don’t even know. Are you serious? You’re being seriously serious right now?”  
  
“Seriously serious,” Lance said, putting his hand on his heart. “Rolo said they’re all on it. I got the impression that even when they didn’t want to, they just… ended up that way, anyway. And Nyma was – dude. Pidge. She was like fucked up. More than anyone else there. I’m sorry, man. I wish I didn’t have to –”

“No,” Pidge shook his head and moved to Lance, who had remained seated. He placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder and squeezed, but his gaze was in the distance, already thinking, processing. “I’m – I’m glad you told me. I didn’t know. I mean she’d mentioned how _some_ people – well, it doesn’t matter. I need to – I gotta find her. Help her.”

Pidge burst into action, grabbing his phone and wallet from the tablet, shoving them in his pockets.

“If I have to drag her ass from fucking Galra, I will. We’ll get her help. _I_ will.”

“Sure we will, man,” Lance said, unsure of how a person even went about that. He could only imagine that Pidge didn’t have a clue, either. But they weren’t the type of people not to try. They weren’t the type who gave up on anyone, ever.

But what if Nyma didn’t want help?

That wasn’t something Lance planned on voicing.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lance asked, following Pidge to the door.

“It’s fine,” Pidge said, already stamping out some long text on his phone, his eyes distant and distracted. “You’ve got classes.”

“Fuck classes, dude,” Lance said with heat. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Pidge said, turning then. He met Lance’s fierce gaze, reached out and clapped Lance’s shoulder. “It’s fine, man. She wouldn’t want you there, anyway. I’ll deal with this.”

Lance squirmed in place, feeling useless, and hating himself for feeling as such.

“At least keep me updated. Text me, man.”

“You got it.” Pidge turned and yanked his set off keys of a hook on the wall, beside the door. He looked over his shoulder, his expression sober. “And thanks. I really – I like her, y’know?”

Lance grinned.

“ _Oooh_ , Pidge has got a girlfriend.”

Pidge snorted.

“Yeah, and _you_ don’t.”

Lance gaped as Pidge shut the door behind him.

“Rude!”

***

Classes dragged by in a blur. There had been no point in Lance attending in the first place.

He should have gone with Pidge. That was all Lance could think. He should have gone with Pidge and been there for his friend.

His friend, who had yet to text back.

Lance texted Hunk, found out he was in the cafeteria, and rushed over.

It was midday, and the cafeteria was heaving with students. Lance recognized plenty of faces. Sent distracted smiles and waves towards those who called on him from their tables and seats.

Lance had a lot of friends. Party-friends, acquaintance-friends, a few past fuck buddies turned friends. But he had only three friends who meant more than the world to them.

And one of them was out there, going it alone.

Disappointment visibly dragged Lance’s face down as he balefully found Hunk sat at a table with not just Shay, but her obnoxious brother Rax, as well.

Rax hated Lance. Lance had a suspicious it was because Rax was a super straight, gigantic, gym-nut who _totally_ had a thing for him. How could he not? Lance was obviously irresistible, even to mega-bros.

“Hey, kids,” Lance said upon approach, an automatic grin in place. “How’re my favorite twinsies?”

Rax made a mangled his face up in distaste and sullenly drank a gross protein shake while unable to actually take his eyes off Lance. Shay smiled and immediately pulled out the last chair at their circular table.

“Hi, Lance! Come sit with us. How’re you?”

“Oh, just –” Lance gave Hunk a meaningful look, which Hunk replied to with a blank stare of cluelessness. Inwardly, Lance kicked Hunk directly in the face for his oblivious nature. “Fine. I’m fine. Y’know, same old, same old. Fighting off the hordes of admirers –” Rax snorted and Lance winked at him lewdly. “What about you, Rax? Inject enough testosterone yet to grow yourself some of your own titties or are those all natural?”

Rax sneered. It was a shame that he and Lance had been at odds from the word ‘go’, because Rax was the spitting imagine of the tall, gorgeous Shay, but a guy. Lance totally would have tried Rax on for size. Now, it was just as fun to poke at him.

“You wish you could have this body,” Rax said, reclining back in his chair to stress the sheer width of his muscular shoulders and chest.

“Hmmm,” Lance said, his lips curving as he propped his elbows on the table and leaned in across it. “I think you mean it the other way around.”  
Rax’s confused frown was adorable.

But playtime was over. Lance flicked another urgent look to Hunk, who was stuffing a comically large sub sandwhich into his mouth.

“Hunk. You heard from Pidge today?”

Hunk chewed – and chewed. And chewed. Finally, he swallowed the massive bite and frown a little as he wiped his mouth.

“Uh, no – why?”

“Nah, it’s nothin’. I just sent him a hilarious meme today and he didn’t have the decency to reply.”

“Bastard.”

“Complete asshat, I know!”

Lance slouched in his seat a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

Fuck, he couldn’t talk to Hunk about this shit in front of Shay and Rax. Like, technically he could, but strippers and heroin weren’t exactly tasty lunch topics for strangers.

He just had to play it dumb for now. Which, well, fell exactly into Lance’s wheelhouse. Finding Pidge would just have to fall to him. It wasn’t that Lance couldn’t pull Hunk aside and urgently tell him what was going on – but, well, it wasn’t an emergency yet. For all Lance knew, Pidge and Nyma were just arguing or something right now, and Pidge couldn’t get to his phone. Lance would get to the bottom of this, and once he did, Hunk would be the first to know.

“Well, I gotta be going –”

“You just got here,” Hunk said. “You have to eat first.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” Lance said, already collecting his backpack from the floor and scooting back in his chair.

Hunk shot a huge hand out and took Lance’s shoulder, staring at him intensely.

“You need to eat. If you’re body doesn’t get the proper nutrition, you’ll –”

“Alright, alright, _Dad_ ,” Lance said with an eye roll. He reached across the table, grabbed an entire boiled egg off of Rax’s salad and shoved it in his mouth.

“You little shit!” Rax said, his eyes going wide and livid as he screeched his chair back and stood to his full gargantuan height.

“Godda go!” Lance said, mouth full as he snatched his bag and dashed off to the sounds of Rax’s swearing and Shay’s laughter.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Lance sped through the building with quick strides, brought the cell to his ear and called Pidge.

Voicemail.

Voicemail again.

Voicemail on the third try, too.

Bursting from the front double doors, Lance pocketed his phone with a heavy sigh. Nothing.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Lance strode across campus, now blatantly ignoring the waves and calls of people who knew him.

Well, what next?

Lance could only think of one person who knew more about this situation than Lance did at the moment.

He made a beeline for The Lion.

Lance burst through the door of the coffee shop at the peak of the lunch time rush. The line stretched to where Lance had entered. Still, he rounded the crowd, weeding through hipsters and angry, un-caffeinated moms to get to the front.

Shiro was taking orders like a fucking boss, his smile totally resilient no matter how douchey the customer. Although, very few people were ever mean to him.

Like, _look_ at him. How could anyone be mean to that face?

Keith, however, was a frenzy of moving parts as he juggled multiple drinks by his own damn self. His face the picture of resentment as he flew through orders and accidentally smeared chocolate on his cheek with the back of his hand. His apron was a disaster.

All the same, Keith was on top of shit as he ever was, and Lance couldn’t help standing at the drink receiving end of the bar and watch for a moment.

Before Lance had a chance to bother Keith, those sharp, gunmetal grey eyes shot up and met Lance’s from behind the counter.

“Hi,” Keith said shortly, though not as unkind as weeks past. He’d softened to Lance, he really had. _Suckerrr_.

“Have you heard from Pidge or Nyma at all today?” Lance said, by way of greeting.

Keith flicked his attention to Lance as he heated and foamed a huge vat of milk. His gaze narrowed.

“What? No. Why would I?”  
  
“I dunno. This morning I kinda told Pidge about –”

“ _Seriously_?” Keith hissed, surveying the crowd which was gathered around them, waiting for drinks with varying levels of impatience. “You have the worst timing.”

Keith’s concentration returned to his drinks, and Lance remained irritably silent while Keith called out three or four cups to their customers.

“So you don’t know anything?” Lance finally said, unable to bite his tongue any longer. The line was still lengthy, and customer’s still bunched up where Lance was standing, but fuck them.

“Anything about what?” Keith said, impatience hot in his voice. He flashed Lance a scorching stare. “I can barely keep up with what you’re asking me in the first place. I rarely talk to Nyma outside of work. I talk to Pidge at home, but we’re not exactly texting buddies at this point.”

“I guess I’ll go to her house next,” Lance said, musing aloud.

Keith glared up from pouring a drink, completely oblivious to the fact that he was over-pouring over the cup and onto the floor.

“Like hell you’re going there. If Rolo touches a hair on your –”

“You’re spilling.”

“Shit!” Keith capped the drink, wiped down the sides, and sent it out to the bar. He was clearly past the limit of fucks given. When he’d finished, he stopped working, placed his hands flat on the counter and leaned towards Lance with eyes like molten steel. “Don’t go there, Lance. I won’t be there to save you.”

“I’ve never needed saving in my life,” Lance said with a toothy, cocky grin. “You just have a hero complex.”

“Hardly.”

“For me, you do.”

“That’s because you’re fucking useless and it gets on my nerves to watch you stumbling through life like you woke up and drank half a bottle of whiskey to start your day.”

“Hey, I’d rather that than wake up with _that_ hair and height, okay?”

“ _You guys_ ,” Shiro called from down the line. His face was set in stone. “Keith, stop flirting. Lance, order a drink or get outta here. Can’t you see we’re up to the gills and understaffed today?”

“Yeah, Keith,” Lance said with a smug smile. “Stop flirting.”

Keith aimed a bland look his way.

“Shut up before I shut you up. If you want to find Nyma, try Galra first. She’s never at home – she hates that dump. But Galra’s not open, yet, though, so you’ll have to wait ‘til dark.”

“Thanks, I’ll just –”

“Actually,” Keith said quickly, scratching at the dried chocolate on his cheek while he studied Lance with what might have been concern in his eyes. “Wait for me to finish work. We’ll go together. I don’t want you going alone. Who knows what you’ll fuck up.”

Lance folded his arms and stuck his chin out.

“I’m perfectly capable of –”

“Just don –”

“ _KEITH_ ,” Shiro bellowed. “I _swear_ to God I will –”

“Alright, alright!” Keith turned away from Lance and started to catch up with the growing line of drink orders waiting at the counter.

“My shift ends at three,” Keith said over his shoulder firmly. “Wait for me.”

“Whatever you say,” Lance said placidly, which probably should have sent warning bells in Keith’s ears right off the bat – because when did Lance ever really agree with him.

Lance left the café, for the first time ever without a drink, and immediately began the short walk home.

He needed to get his car if he was going to drive to Galra.

The strip joint itself was in an industrial area of town. Wedged between two small factories, it was well hidden from any person who didn’t specifically set out to go there.

And, lucky enough for Lance, he was able to leave his car in the next door parking lot with other factory workers and take an alleyway around to the back of Galra itself.

Standing behind a dumpster that smell like used cat litter and old cheeseburgers, Lance peeked around the edge and watched the back door for any signs of life.

He didn’t have a plan. Lance rarely did. Instinct was enough, right? _Right_? His mind was simply set on getting in, looking for Nyma, and either talking to her and finding out what happened with her and Pidge, or getting her out of there if the situation called for it.

Pidge wanted her out of this place, and Lance wasn’t about to let him go it alone.

Just then, one of the large bodyguards came around the back. And, to Lance’s surprise, he just opened the back door and strolled in.

“Unlocked,” Lance said to himself. “Guess that’s my invitation.”

Lance restrained himself from moving for about five minutes before he could no longer remain. Instead of sprinting to the door, he casually walked, hands in pockets, like he worked here.

Gripping the handle, Lance took one deep breath, and stepped inside.

Nothing happened. No one was around.

Lance was in a hallway that seemed to branch off left and right, obviously linked to several back rooms. He walked to the end of the hallway, his head cocked to the side as he listened for voices in either direction. Catching a low, male murmur, he turned right. He passed a couple of closed doors until he reached one where the voices – there were two – sounded clearly.

“The new shipment came?” said a smooth, young voice. Lance immediately recognized that practiced confidence was Zee.

“Yes, sir,” said a deep voice, obviously Sendak.

_Sir_? Just who was the boss, here?

“Good. The natives are getting restless. And Mama’s got arms to feed,” Zee said, humor evident in his voice.

_Mama_? Lance frowned, his back pressed firmly against the wall beside the door. Who was Mama? Surely Zee wasn’t talking about himself. Just what was going _on_ in this place?

“Any new girls making a fuss that I need to take care of, sir?”

“Not just yet,” Zee said, his voice unnervingly soft, thoughtful. “It’s the veterans that are concerning me, Sendak.”

“Big Red, sir?”

“Yes,” Zee said tightly. “ _Keith_.”  
  
“He has proved himself loyal, time and again, sir. He brings us plenty of girls.”

Lance’s chest constricted, made his lungs burn. What the fuck was he hearing?

“So he does.” The wheels of a chair squeaked, as if Zee were sliding pushing back in a chair or something. “But he didn’t bring me his friend, did he?”

“What was his name again?”

“Lance,” Zee said, holding the end of Lance’s name like a hissing snake. “Never once mentioned him. The person closest to him. I got the impression the other night that they were – well, _invested_ in each other.”

“He’s protecting him,” Sendak said.

“It seems so.” A light, unhinged chuckle filled the hallway and sent ice scraping down Lance’s spine. “That just makes me want to snatch him up all the more.”

“If you did, Big Red really could turn on us.”

“No,” Zee said, snorted a short laugh. “He owes me far too much.”

“Perhaps that won’t matter to him.”

“If I stop mattering to him, Sendak, then he will cease to matter to me.” Zee’s voice went dark. “In fact, he’s hardly anything to me _now_. I could shoot him up tomorrow and keep him indebted to me until he becomes a useless, strung-out shell of himself and the police find him in a ditch.”

Lance’s face went up in flame, his heart thrashing in his chest in pure, gut-plummeting terror. _Keith_. What was Keith’s involvement? Fuck Nyma. _Keith_ needed to get out of this, fast. Just what did he owe a man like Zee?

“Zarkon,” Sendak said, his voice almost worried, or unnerved.

“ _What_?” Zee – Zarkon? – snapped.

“Be careful. The FBI continues to sniff around.”

“Ha! The FBI. Dunces.”

“They’ve been asking the right questions to the right people, sir.”

“And haven’t found a single body.”

“Perhaps they’ll end up knowing enough not to need a body.”

“Doubtful.”

Suddenly, the sound of Zee getting to his feet sent every hair on Lance’s arms standing up.

“If either of those fools find a body, and they’ll be the _next_ bodies I dump.”

Lance couldn’t hear any more. The two men were obviously getting ready to leave the room.

His throat closed in a vice-like fist, Lance turned and ran. Turned the corner and tore towards the exit.

He had to tell Keith, Lance thought as he ripped from the back of the building and hid himself behind the dumpster. His thoughts smashed against his skull like a mosh pit, frenzied and unclear.

No, he had to tell the police.

No, Keith first, _then_ police.

_Fuck_.

Even as he’d barely caught his breath, Lance heard the approach of high heels. He looked around the edge of the trash and –

_Nyma_.

Lance resisted calling out. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what to _do_ anymore.

Nyma couldn’t know what he knew – that would only endanger her further. Right now, she was going with the flow, going to work, shooting up or whatever, and no one would look at her differently. It needed to stay that way.

Stay that way until Lance could do something of _use_ here.

Without looking back, Lance rushed to his car and squealed out of the factory parking lot. He needed to go home. He needed Pidge and Keith and Hunk.

Agent Altea’s business card burned a hole in Lance’s wallet.

And they needed the FBI.

The house was empty went Lance arrived home.

“That’s just great,” Lance said, dropping his backpack next to the front door and kicking off his shoes in opposite directions. “Good job, Lance. You’ve managed to get yourself involved in the shittiest shit in the entire history of this fucking town and you don’t know how to do a single thing about it. Useless idiot that you are.”

Pulling out his phone to check once more for word from Pidge – and, finding none – Lance texted him to say he was home and that they needed to talk. He also texted Keith.

_Already went to Galra. Saw Nyma, but couldn’t talk to her._

It didn’t take long for Keith to reply.

_WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU_

_Do we have time for the list?_

_YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DONE I AM WITH YOUR SHIT_

_MY shit? Your shit is the shittiest shit that ever shat on this town!_

_AND YOU’RE BASICALLY CHOOSING TO ROLL IN IT_

_WHO IS THE IDIOT HERE_

_Still you!_

_LITERALLY DONE. ALL OF MY FUCKS HAVE FLOWN OUT THE WINDOW_

_IT’S YOUR FUNERAL_

_I HAVE TO GO TO WORK NOW_

_Don’t get killed._

_NO, I’LL BE KILLING YOU FIRST_

_BELIEVE ME_

Lance rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone.

Wandering aimlessly into the living room, Lance dropped, face-first onto the couch. Even though it was hard to breath with his nose shoved in the leather like that, he didn’t move. For a second, he realized that he hadn’t had a coffee in about six hours – and promptly passed the fuck out.

“Lance!”  
  
Lance shot up from the couch, his body on complete alert. He didn’t have the brain function to speak yet, but when he found himself blinked at Pidge sitting on the couch, his chest flooded with relief.

“ _Dude_ ,” was all Lance said.

“I know,” Pidge said, his cheeks going a little pink as he looked down at his knees. “I’m an asshole for ignoring you. I feel like shit about it.”

“I hope so,” Lance said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He was fairly certain he’d only gotten about ten minutes sleep just now.

“But I convinced her,” Pidge said, his voice brightening.

Lance dropped his hands to his lap and stared, wide eyed, with a grin.

“What – you did? To stop or –”

“To quit Galra _and_ to get help,” Pidge said, sounding almost like a kid on Christmas. “The school year is almost over, but she knows once she goes through withdrawals she won’t be able to go through finals or anything like that. She’s going to quit this semester, start again in the new school year. She won’t be that far behind us, just a semester. And she’s gonna go get help. Stay at a good place we found, just an hour’s drive from here.”

Lance’s cheeks ached from smiling, his heart swelling just from the enthusiasm on Pidge’s face.

“Pidge, that’s fucking amazing!”

Wordlessly, Lance pulled Pidge in and enveloped his small frame in a tight, encompassing hug. For once, Pidge didn’t resist.

But even as Lance rode the wave of joy with Pidge, his mind worked.  
  
That would have been why he’d seen Nyma there during the day. She’d been going there to quit. What a relief.

“What now?” Lance said, pulling Pidge back at an arm’s length, still gripping his shoulders.

Pidge shrugged a little, his expression thoughtful.

“She’s already heading to Galra to quit on the spot. Then she’s gonna pack a suitcase, talk to Rolo, and head over here tonight.”

“I like the sound of that.” Lance paused for a moment, just grinning at Pidge. “I’m happy for you, ya know. This is kind of a big deal.”

Pidge looked away a little, his entire face going red.

“She’s kind of a big deal, I think. I dunno. I’ve never done this before.”

“Hey, man – if you know, you know. Simple as that.”

“Everything’s simple with you,” Pidge said with a laugh.

_Not anymore_ , Lance thought, though he kept his grin in place.

“Mostly,” was all Lance said. Purposely, he brightened himself up. “Hey, let’s eat. The only thing I’ve eaten all day was a boiled egg I stole from Rax.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Pidge said, breaking down in laughter. “You’ll be on his shit list for life. His precious protein!”

“Little does he know that if he finally gave in and sucked my dick, I’d give him _plenty_ of protein.”

“You’re disgusting!” Pidge said, though he was leaning heavily against the couch and could barely speak for guffaws. “Anyway, Keith would beat his ass into the ground.”

“Keith would beat a toddler’s ass into the ground. He just wants to fight anyone with a face.”

“Nah,” Pidge said, inhaling a few calming breaths, his smile from ear to ear. “I’m pretty sure yours is the only face he ever looks at.”

Lance scoffed, even as his heart did a little jig. He _wished_ things were that simple.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. He wants to do that thing to me from the cartoons, where the guy drops a fist on the other peron’s head and they get hammered straight down into the ground and get stuck.”

“Well, he wants to _hammer_ you,” Pidge said with that familiar sly smile of his. “That’s for sure.”

“Are we talking about Rax again?” Lance said lightly.

Pidge sputtered a laugh and they both collapsed into each other, absolutely dying.

***

Something brushed at Lance’s forehead, smoothed his hair away from his face. _Nice dream_.

“Lance.”

Lance grunted and flipped in bed, snuggling his cheek into his pillow and drifting off again.

“ _Lance_. Wake up.”

“ _Mmm_?”

“We need to talk.”

Lance’s deep, even breathing stuttered a bit as his brain rebooted. He cracked his eyes opened, inspecting the far bedroom window and finding it completely black out.

“’S night time,” Lance murmured, closing his eyes again.

A flash of cold shocked Lance’s entire body as his warm, cloud-like blankets were mercilessly ripped away from him.

Lance shrieked and sat up in bed, blinking blindly into the dark until his eyes adjusted and caught Keith.

“What the _fuck_ , you doucheking!” Lance said with a whimper as he wrapped his arms around his naked chest. He always slept only in boxers, summer or winter. “What the hell do you want from me in the middle of the night?”

“What the _hell_ did you tell Zee about me – about _us_?” Keith said quickly, as if the words couldn’t come out fast enough. He sat on the edge of the bed, clad in black sweats and a black t-shirt, probably just home from another late Galra night.

“Uh.” Lance couldn’t keep up. He was so fucking tired from today. “I haven’t talked to Zee today. I mean I saw him, but –”

“Wait, what?” Keith leaned in to Lance’s face in the door, his expression shocked. “When? Wait, when you said you went there? You saw him? What did you –”

“I heard a lot of things, Keith,” Lance said, his voice still thick and slow with sleep. Keith smelled good.

“Such as?”

“What was it you asked me?” Lance said, avoiding the topic for now. “What I told Zee about you? Not fucking much, man. He was at Rolo’s party, y’know. He said he didn’t know you’d moved out of your dorm and I said yeah, with me and my friends. I dunno. He said something like, he was surprised you didn’t tell him about that or about me. I don’t know why he would care about me, until –”

“Until what?” Keith said, sharp and quiet, his face still too close.

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Lance snapped. “Like, _damn_ , son.”

Keith made a point of keeping his mouth shut then, his jaw obviously tight with stress.

“Today – or, er, _yesterday_ now, I guess – he said that you, uh, you didn’t bring him his friend. His friend, me.”

Keith’s lips parted in a small ‘o’ of surprise. Otherwise, he didn’t move. His eyes, large and black in the darkness, searched Lance’s face.

“What – what else did he say about me?”

Lance looked away, his heart starting an intense rhythm, like an engine getting ready to race.

“He said that you bring him lots of girls. Whatever that means.”

Keith didn’t react. He just leaned back a little, out of Lance’s space just enough that Lance could breathe again. Keith looked down at the bed, where both of their hands were spread on the mattress, fingers nearly brushing.

“Don’t come back to that place again, Lance. No matter what you do, don’t go back. Don’t trust Zee, don’t talk to him, don’t search him out or –”

“He’s the big boss, isn’t he? Of that place.”

Keith continued to study their hands, unmoving.

“I – yeah. He is. Most people, they don’t know. He likes it that way. He pretends he just works there.”

“Zarkon.”

Keith looked up, his eyes wide in surprise.

“You heard that name?”

“I –”

“Don’t repeat it,” Keith said suddenly, real and palpable fear shaking is voice for the first time since Lance had known him. A strong, slim hand gripped Lance’s wrist tightly, bruising. “Don’t say it to anyone, anywhere. He’s dangerous, Lance. I keep telling you, but you don’t seem to fucking understand. He is so –”

“I do,” Lance said. Instinctively, Lance leaned in and rested his free hand, his palm, on Keith’s jaw. “I get it now. Not everything – not a lot of what you’re obviously hiding, but –”

Keith pulled away from Lance’s touch and released his hold on Lance’s wrist. His gaze cast low, refusing to meet Lance’s earnest expression.

“My story isn’t what’s important here. Just stay away, Lance. I won’t warn you again. Should you not listen again, what will happen from that point is all on you.”

Lance frowned, his heart unexpectedly aching for Keith, who seemed to find it easier to pull away from everyone than just let them in, let them help.

Sighing, Lance dropped his hand.

“Nyma’s quitting, you know,” Lance said.

Keith looked up, his brow furrowed.

“That must be why she wasn’t at work tonight. One of the girls asked about her and Sendak gave them hell for even questioning her disappearance.”

“Probably doesn’t want them getting any ideas.”

“As ever.”

“Why can’t you just leave?” Lance asked suddenly, forever unable to hold back.

“Why can’t you just stop talking about this?” Keith said, his eyes damning in the dark.

“ _You’re_ the one who woke me up to talk to me about this!”

“You’re the one who opened your big mouth in the first place so it came to the point where I had to wake you up in the night to talk to you about this!”

“And _you’re_ the one who –”

Cupping the nape of Lance’s neck, Keith pulled him in sharply, crushing his lips to Lance’s.

Gasping in shock, Lance flung his arms around Keith’s shoulders, and opened his mouth in a hot, wet welcome. Keith’s tongue plunged in, plundering, and Lance matched him in ferocity and desire, twin swirling storms entangled and clashing with each other in hot lightning and thundering rain.

Only Keith, _only_ Keith, made Lance dizzy like this. Only these lips drove him higher and higher to a breaking point Lance never knew he hand. Only these hands that slid down his arms, brutally gripped at his hips and tugged him in made Lance want give him everything he had.

Entwined, they fell back, Lance’s head landing on the soft pillow, Keith’s body hot as a livewire against his bare chest.

Lance’s legs went around Keith’s waist, clamped tightly, keeping him close in complete desperation. They tore at each other’s mouths, Keith releasing a guttural, impatient growl as he ripped himself from Lance’s lips. His hands slapped down on either side of Lance’s head, though Lance’s legs kept Keith from escape.

Cradled in the darkness that crackled with electricity, Lance and Keith studied each other, their chests heaving with breath.

Keith’s mouth was swollen, frowning slightly, his eyes unblinking as they seemed to scan every inch of Lance’s face.

“Keith,” Lance said softly, reaching a hand up, his fingers tangling in that thick, soft hair. “How’re you gonna talk your way outta this one?”

“You want me to?” Keith said, his voice a mere rasp.

“No.”

Keith’s lips thinned.

“Why do – nevermind.”

Keith tried to pull away, but Lance’s legs were stronger than most and held him fast.

“What? Why do I what?”

“Why do you like me like this?” Keith demanded, his whisper fierce. “Knowing me like you do. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Lance couldn’t help his lips curving, his eyebrows raising in amusement.

“I’ll tell you when all this shit is over.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open.

“You really are a complete fucking clown.” He shoved himself off the bed, and this time Lance let him go, laughing the whole time. “You’re seriously not even worth the effort.”

Lance couldn’t stop laughing as Keith stomped to the door and yanked it open.

“Goodnight, you smug asshole,” Keith said, and slammed the door behind him.

Lance kept laughing.

“Shut up!” Keith hollered in the hallway.

“ _EVERYONE_ SHUT UP,” Pidge yelled from his room.

Because it was Pidge, everyone did shut up.


End file.
